The Doctor Came to Stay
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: What exactly did the Doctor get up to during that time he lived with the Ponds in "The Power of Three"? Suggestions welcome! Amy/Rory, Doctor/River
1. Chapter 1

**So, I shouldn't be starting a new fic, but this one is going to be a bit less plot-driven, and more just about the characters, the 'Three' I suppose, and just some fun times with the Doctor on the slow path. This was sort of an idea/request presented to me by Sin respuestas, so thank them. Anyway, hope you guys have fun reading this, and please review!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter One**

"Can I stay here—with you and Rory?" She was so shocked by the sudden question she didn't immediately speak. "Just for a bit," he hastened to add, seeming to have decided her hesitation was rejection, "Keep an eye on the cubes. However long that takes."

Inside, Amy's heart leapt up and then froze in her chest. Because he was _asking_ to stay, her best friend was asking. But… "I thought it would drive you mad." She didn't blame him. Their ordinary lives, however much she and Rory enjoyed them, must seem unbearably dull to him.

"No, no, no," he was quick to disagree. "I mean, I'll be better at it this time." And then it was the Doctor's turn to hesitate before he added. "I miss you."

Amy's lips could not help but turn up as a warm feeling sprouted in her chest and spread outwards through her entire body. He missed them, he really did. Enough to stay.

Still, when she turned to see his nervous, waiting face, she can't help but drag out the suspense for him. She was Amy Pond, where was the fun in simple. "Let's see what Mr. Pond says," she replies, and motioned for the Doctor to follow her into the house so they could find Rory. Of course, if her husband said no for some inexplicable reason, he was staying anyway. And even the idea of Rory saying no was absurd; the Doctor was his best friend, too.

They found him at the door, ushering the last of the guests out with thank yous and other polite formalities and telling his dad to actually get some sleep. When he finally shut the door and faced them, she could see just a hint of sadness in his expression.

"Oh, guess you'll be going, too then," he said to the Doctor, whose eye's widened, and Amy watched in amusement as he tried to interrupt the other man unsuccessfully. "Right, well, thanks for coming—and the Zygons weren't that bad, really," Rory reassured. "It was just good to see you again and—what exactly am I missing?" He finally broke off, watching as the Doctor had now turned to Amy clearly asking for help and looking rather lost. She, on the other hand, was smirking at the Time Lord and quite enjoying his discomfort. It wasn't really often a side he showed.

"Oh, come on, you can ask. You're twelve-hundred, yeah? Use you words," she chided like one would a child, and the Doctor pouted quite like one before looking back at a confused Rory.

"I'm not leaving Rory," he tentatively explained, the nurse only looking more bewildered. "That is- if you and Amy will have me."

"Oh," Rory said blankly. A second later, he seemed to get it. "_Oh_."

"It's perfectly alright for you to decline," the Doctor patted Rory on the shoulder in understanding. "Wouldn't be half as useful as an Ood or—"

"Last time you painted our fence, mowed our lawn, vacuumed our entire house, and fixed my car that _you_ got me," Rory listed. "I'd say that's more than enough."

But the Doctor was already backing towards the exit into the garden where he'd parked the TARDIS. If she'd realized how sensitive he felt about this, she wouldn't have teased him. He was chickening out, running away. And she wasn't sure she could wait for their next anniversary for him to show up again. Amy and Rory shared equally panicked looks before rushing out after him.

They found the alien fumbling for his key, clearly too agitated to remember snapping was just as effective, and muttering under his breath. "Stupid, _stupid_ Doctor…they've all got someone else, dear, I knew that and—"

"Doctor!" She called, breaking into his conversation with his box. He whirled about to face them, the key at last in his hand and looking lonely and scared and _resigned_.

"Oh, yes. Sorry. Goodbyes, quite right, Pond," he said, trying and failing miserably to obtain his usual exuberance.

"You mean, goodnight," Rory corrected, and the two humans could both see the gears of their friend's brain literally stop in complete bafflement.

"Sorry?"

"Well, I don't know about you two, but running from Henry the Eighth's guards, tracking down your phone charger in the English black market, and then finishing hosting a party leaves me pretty tired. Amy, want to show him the guest bedroom?" Rory directed the last question to his wife.

"Sure, you get some sleep," deliberately ignoring the alien who stood still dumbfounded, Amy leaned in to kiss her husband on the cheek, and the nurse headed back inside with a wave over his shoulder.

"Goodnight!"

Amy at last faced the Doctor again, who was alternatively looking back and forth at Rory's retreating form and her smirking face, an incredulous look on his features.

"I can stay?"

She couldn't help rolling her eyes at his amazement. "Of course! So, guest bedroom, yeah? Come along, Doctor," she couldn't help but grin at the huge smile that lit his face, and just for the sake of seeing it grow even bigger, reached out to grasp his hand and led him along.

Despite it not being remotely exciting, a normal human room painted a nondescript color with average furniture and a little window overlooking the garden, the Doctor entered the space behind her with a look of wonder, his eyes darting about to capture everything.

"Look at that," he remarked, sonic screwdriver out and scanning a bedside lamp. He turned it on and off over and over. "Guest bedroom of the Ponds…all the things you've done, Amelia." He smiled warmly up at her, and she wanted to appreciate it, she really did, but Amy's body chose that moment to yawn.

"Sorry," she excused, because she wanted to sleep, but doing so would mean she'd leave him. And it was still so unbelievable that he was staying. If she and Rory slept, what would stop him from jumping back into his TARDIS in the middle of the night and flying away?

Of course, it was like he sensed all of what she was thinking, for the Doctor walked over, tucked the sonic back in his pocket, and placed gentle, but firm hands on her shoulders. "Sleep, Pond. I'm not going anywhere. Trust me." He gave her that same warm smile, and she couldn't help but feel the worry drain from her.

"Ok," she acquiesced before waving an accusing finger at him. "but you better be here when I wake up, Raggedy Man."

"Cross my hearts," he promised.

A few minutes later she was sliding under the covers next to Rory, who rolled over to face her.

"You think this is actually going to work?" He asked quietly, his voice somewhat sluggish with sleep.

"Don't see why not," she shrugged.

"Amy!" They heard the Doctor call.

The married pair shared a somewhat worried glance, and Amy turned toward the door, propping herself up on one elbow.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Do I have to stay _in_ the room?" Well, it wasn't like he needed much sleep. In fact, the alien probably wasn't even tired at all.

Exchanging a glance with Rory, she decided, "No."

They heard the sound of his boots wander down the hall and into the main part of the house. "Just getting familiarized, nothing to worry about…what are _you_, you beauty?" The whirr of the sonic then pierced the relative quiet. "Ooh! A _toaster_! You have a toaster, Ponds!"

Amy looked at Rory with a slightly apologetic expression as the noises of the Doctor rustling about their kitchen continued. "Sorry?" She tried. Rory sighed, but patted the space next to him, so she snuggled back down under the covers.

"Earplugs," Rory stated tiredly, "First thing tomorrow morning, I'm going straight out and buying earplugs."

Amy smiled even though he couldn't see it. "That's my boys."

**So, that's just sort of setting up the fic. The first few lines of dialogue came directly from "The Power of Three", so if you recognize them, that's why. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, and if you have any suggestions on what the Doctor and the Ponds should do, feel free to let me know and I'll try to incorporate them. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, updated my other, more serious story, so time for more fun with the Doctor and the Ponds! The response has been overwhelmingly awesome guys, thanks a ton! Anyway, on to the next chapter.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Two**

He wasn't sure when or for how long, but he must have fallen asleep at some point in the night. Well, least he was rested up for the next few days at least, that was always an exciting prospect. A little break to recharge, and then off running to the next adventure.

The Doctor blinked his eyes open, staring quietly at the ceiling as he lay on his back. Hang on, that wasn't his ceiling. Or for that matter, his bed. And what was that, a tiny table and a lamp? The entire room was not his and that was very strange because he did not recall checking in to some hotel on some distant planet or anything. And even if he had, he didn't usually sleep when he was visiting a completely brand-new planet, he was usually too eager to start having a look around.

The Doctor had no idea where he was.

Of course, this all took seconds to process in reality, and so what it would have looked like to any outside observer was this: The Doctor opened his eyes, got a rather confused look on his face that quickly turned to alarm, gave a jump and tried to rise from the bed and reach for the sonic resting on the little table with the lamp, only to get his current body's gangly limbs all tangled in the sheets, and promptly fell off the side with a almighty crash and a yelp of surprise that turned into a cry of pain as he hit his head on the landing.

When a pair of house slippers appeared in his dizzy vision, the Doctor wasn't sure if he should feel relieved or nervous as he looked up.

OoO

After freshening up some in the bathroom, Amy had joined her husband Rory in the kitchen, where the man had poured himself some cereal and started a pot of tea on the stove.

"My shift starts this morning, so I figured a quick breakfast would be easier," he explained as she leaned in to give him a good morning kiss on the cheek, which he then returned.

"No complaints here, I can stomach endless bowls of cereal," she joked, and they chuckled a bit. "How'd you sleep?" She was still feeling a little guilty about that, as she knew the nurse needed proper rest to remain fully functional at work.

"Oh, not too bad," he assured her, "he must have found the bookshelves or something cause it got kind of quiet."

"Yeah, have you seen him yet, cause I haven't," Amy commented. It was a bit odd; usually when they lived with the Doctor, it was in the TARDIS, and nearly nine times out of ten the alien could be found in the console room. Now that it was their own house, she wasn't sure how her friend fit into the place. "I didn't check his room, but—"

"Amy, it's a normal, human house," Rory interrupted calmly as her poured her her own bowl of cereal. "He'll be fine, you don't need to worry or anything."

"You're right," she agreed, nodding as though to convince herself.

"I think between the two of us we can keep an eye on him," he added, seeing she wasn't entirely swayed.

She grinned a little as she asked, "You still going to buy those earplugs?"

"Oh, yes," he replied quickly, causing the two to laugh.

The kettle whistled, and Amy stood to pour the hot water into their two mugs. She was just adding the bags when they heard a loud thud, and a familiar voice give first an exclamation of surprise and then pain. The sounds had come from the guest bedroom.

Rory seemed to be staring at his half-eaten cereal bowl as if in disbelief that their friend could have already gotten into trouble. Amy decided to spare him and placed his tea in front of him, saying, "I think I'll go check on him, yeah?"

"Yep."

She shuffled along quickly in her slippers, nightie, and robe, coming to a stop in the doorway of the guest bedroom and pushing the door open to find the Doctor sprawled on the ground and half-wrapped in covers. His hair was like a bird's nest, his bowtie askew, one of his braces hanging off the shoulder. Did he even have his own nightclothes?

Amy could only shake her head as the alien's eyes finally stopped looking in two directions and focused on her feet. When his gaze at last travelled up and landed on her face, a look of comprehension dawned on his features.

"Oh," he said simply.

"Morning," she greeted.

"Yes, Ponds. Amy, Rory. Right," he muttered, and she couldn't fight her curiosity.

"Did you forget where you were? About staying with us?" She folded her arms over her chest when he didn't reply immediately, and his expression turned sheepish.

"…Yes." The Doctor pouted when she smirked in amusement, which only caused her mirth to grow.

"Come on, let's get you up, you numpty" she finally said, walking over and grabbing him by the upper arms. He stumbled to his feet and she set about disentangling him from his blankets and placing them back on the bed. When finished with that, Amy turned to see him fixing his braces and bowtie, so she handed him his jacket which had been slung over the back of a chair.

"Thank you," he said, tugging his arms through the sleeves. "And sorry, if I alarmed you earlier. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, little disorienting."

"It's fine," she waved off his concerns. "After breakfast we can move your things up here so maybe you won't get all confused." Amy walked out into the hall, but stopped after a few paces and turned back to see him standing where she'd left him, a blank, almost puzzled look on his face.

"Move my things?" He repeated.

"Well, yeah," she replied, "You don't think Rory and I are going to make you run down to the TARDIS every time you want a change of clothes, do you?" At his continued perplexed expression she gave a huff of impatience and stomped back into the room, walking over to a sliding door in the wall. "Doctor," she said slowly, pushing the door open, "this is a closet."

"So it is," he agreed easily, and she was glad he believed her enough not to pull out the sonic and check himself.

"It is empty right now," she continued, deciding to take this in small, easily digested steps.

"Correct."

"It is yours to use," she finally finished, waiting as he seemed to process the information.

"Mine to…oh! My closet, my bed, my room!" He was beaming again, absolutely ecstatic about having his own closet. Abruptly he tore from the room and out into the hall, and Amy heard him shout, "Permission to hug?"

"Granted," Rory's voice called after a pause. Before she could even blink he was back and had his arms around her.

"Oh," she couldn't help but say in some surprise, in part because the air was being pushed from her lungs due to his tight hold. Amy smiled a little into his shoulder as she hugged him back. "So, breakfast, yeah?" She suggested after a bit, and he released her to nod enthusiastically.

"Everything sorted, then?" Rory asked as Amy reentered the kitchen, the Time Lord tagging along behind her. Her husband was making two fresh cups of tea, which she took gratefully, setting them on the table. She couldn't help but notice, however, that their friend was standing to the side, seeming unsure where to go. Amy realized the alien was way out of his comfort zone, but this was starting to become ridiculous. "Sit down," she told him, motioning to her usual seat and grabbing another chair from the sitting room. She came back to see the Doctor watching with interest as Rory poured him some cereal. At last, all three were seated, eating and drinking tea.

"Any reason you're in a rush, Rory?" The Doctor asked when the other man rose to put his bowl in the sink.

"Yeah, actually, my shift starts in half an hour so I really need to get going." Rory finished his tea and went to change into his scrubs.

"You're leaving?" He looked alarmed at the prospect and Amy thought the Doctor might've jumped up and gone after the nurse if she hadn't put a hand on his arm.

"Rory has to go to the hospital for work," she explained, and added quickly, "but I work from home." He seemed appeased by this, so she returned to her food.

"Amy?" The Doctor asked quietly, and she glanced up to see him regarding her with those big eyes. "What do I do?"

She found it hard to maintain his gaze and her eyes dropped down to her half-finished bowl. He had chosen this, true, had asked to stay with them, but wasn't it unfair of her to expect him to be able to just fall into a normal routine with no problems?

"Right," Rory said as he came back through, dressed and with his bag slung over his shoulder. "I'm off, should be back in the afternoon. Call if anything happens," he directed this mostly at her, and Amy knew he meant if the Doctor got into trouble.

"We can handle ourselves," she felt the need to defend herself and her best friend.

The Doctor seemed to forget the rather serious moment they'd shared. "Yes, we'll be fine, Rory. Go. Help people."

"Pre-work pep talk," her husband remarked, "I could get used to that."

"Here's something else you're used to," she simply said, standing up to give him a kiss. In her peripheral vision she could see their friend grimace and take a gulp of tea to distract himself from their activities.

"See you in a bit," Rory told them before leaving out the front door and soon they heard his car start and drive away.

"So," Amy said after a moment of silence. "You need something to do." He nodded. "Well, how about you help me write an article?"

"Really?" He perked up at that. "I've never written an article before."

"I think you could do it," she encouraged with a grin at his enthusiasm. "Besides, who knows more about travelling than us?"

"Who has more fun than us?" He smiled right back.

OoO

When Rory pulled into his driveway late that afternoon, he shut off the engine and stepped out of his car. The first thing he heard once the motor was quiet was a female shriek, coming from his house.

Instantly the Roman in him was sprinting up the driveway and bursting through the door, looking about for any signs of danger. He heard the shriek again, followed by…laughter?

On tiptoe, Rory found the source of the noises in their sitting room. Amy in an armchair with her laptop had her head thrown back as she laughed before saying, "I can't tell them to go to the Golden Age of Hollywood, Doctor!"

"Well, why not?" The alien was sitting upside-down on their couch, his legs flung over the back and his arms thrown out in emphasis. "They said they wanted glamour and entertainment—there's nothing better! Though if they want to see the stars, then I would suggest the fields of—"

"Oh, shut up!" She cried, chucking a pillow at his face. Most of the other pillows where strewn about the floor, likely from being used earlier as projectiles. Perhaps that had been the reason for Amy's cries of surprise. He wouldn't put it past the Doctor to throw a couple back in retaliation. "They meant celebrities."

"Well, Hollywood's Golden Age, there you go!" He insisted petulantly after removing the pillow. "Plenty of celebrities, some of the most well-known, most beloved and revered—"

"Bet you're just thinking of _Marilyn_," Amy teased with a giggle, and the Doctor flushed bright red, more likely in embarrassment than gravity moving all the blood to his head.

"No, no—Amy, that's completely- I am not!" He stammered in protest, falling over sideways so he could bring his legs around and sit up properly. "That was all a huge misunderstanding, totally—"

"Aw, that's ok, Doctor," Amy cooed, "I'll bet she misses you, too." As the Time Lord continued to splutter, a light seemed to spark in Amy's eyes, which Rory knew meant his wife had just had an absolutely evil idea. "Does River know about Marilyn Monroe?" His widening eyes and paling face were all the answer she needed. "What about Nefertiti?" Her grin was just wicked as she practically cackled with laughter, and Rory couldn't help feeling sympathy for his alien friend.

But he couldn't count the twelve-thousand year old out just yet. "No, but she probably can figure it out herself, the archeologist. If she asked, I wouldn't lie. Speaking of which, Amelia, Queen of the Romans…" he trailed off with a smirk, and Amy got a suspicious look on her face.

"What are you talking about?"

"I think you know exactly. Didn't you say you were Rory's Queen?" Well, that was news to him. Amy's went wide and her cheeks turned pink.

"How'd you hear about that?" She hissed, looking mortified.

"Neffy might have mentioned it," the Doctor told her smugly, and her eyes narrowed.

"Oh, that is blackmail, Raggedy Man, don't you dare—"

"Um, bit late for that," Rory finally cut in awkwardly, feeling rather guilty for having listened in for so long. Both his wife and their friend jumped.

"Rory, you're home!" The Doctor leapt up with a delighted smile, clapping him on the shoulder. "How was work?"

"Work was fine," he answered. Amy seemed more concerned with other things.

"How much did you hear, Mr. Pond?"

He gulped. "I don't think it's safe to say. Amy groaned in humiliation, causing him to shrug helplessly. "Um, anything I can do?"

"Yes," she said decidedly, snapping her laptop shut and standing. "Find something for him to do so I can actually get some work done."

"I was helping!" The alien cried.

"And you did a very nice job," she said in a placating voice, "But Amy has to go get some real work done now, ok?"

"Then Rory will take him to the kitchen while he fixes dinner," the nurse said, playing along.

"Stop it," the Doctor whined, not helping him sound any more mature.

"Thanks," Amy said gratefully. "Don't bother me for anything less than an apocalypse."

"Right," he agreed, but couldn't resist giving a little bow and adding, "Your Highness."

The Doctor grinned. Amy glared.

It took an alliance of both men to survive the Scottish woman's onslaught of pillows. Rory had a feeling this was going to be one of those nights where nothing got done and they ordered take out. And he didn't mind a bit.

**Ok, so the Doctor has started on his journey of settling into the Pond Life, of course adding his own quirks to it. Again, I am accepting any and all suggestions—if I think it could fit into the story and that I could successfully write it, I will do everything in my power to fit it in! Thanks for reading and please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Home sick, when is there a better time to update? Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows so far, I'm glad you guys are enjoying the fic! This chapter idea was suggested by You'reHighlightingTooMuch, so I hope I did it justice!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Three**

"Ok, last one—you can do this," she muttered as she grabbed a basket and waited for the automatic doors to slide open. "You're Amy Pond, you can successfully take a Time Lord on _errands_."

This was shaping up to be one of the most trying days of her life. She had brought a list, a specific list of what they were going to buy, and yet he had still managed to drag her from one end of the store to another every single time.

"You cannot possibly tell me you have never been in a grocery store before," she had accused him as the alien insisted on inspecting every single apple for her. Yes, the ones he eventually picked were probably perfect, but still it had taken forever.

"Not for years!" The Doctor had exclaimed happily. "And not with Amelia Pond," he'd tapped her fondly on the nose, causing her to roll her eyes and pretend to look impatient. That moment of good feelings toward him had been ruined when his eyes widened in childish delight. "Amy, they have bananas! Bananas are good!"

As they had been walking down the street to the next shop, Rory had called on his break to check in, and so Amy had made the Doctor sit on a bench as she had walked a few feet away.

"Hey, how's work?"

"Pretty average," Rory had told her, "But, um, how's the shopping going?"

She'd had two choices: explode in anger like a mad woman in the middle of the sidewalk, or seethe quietly. "He's impossible," she'd growled.

"Well, maybe you should take him home. I can get whatever we still need on my way back—"

"No," she'd refused, "you're already working today. I can take my best friend grocery shopping." At his continued silence, she'd repeated, "I _can_."

She had practically been able to hear him jump on the other end of the line. "Course you can."

Amy had rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. "I don't know what's with him lately, Rory. The Doctor's weird, but this is…just ridiculous. It's like he's _trying_ to act as much like a kid as he possibly can!"

"I don't know, I kind of prefer it to him going absolutely mad in our lounge," her husband had pointed out. "Maybe this is his way of coping."

"I guess, but I wish he'd just…" she'd turned around and groaned upon spotting the empty bench. "Got to go, love you," she'd said quickly, snapping the phone shut in her irritation.

Amy had found him minutes later helping a little girl win at the claw machine tucked inside one of the shops. Though it had warmed her heart to see the child squeal in delight as the stuffed penguin drop into the open slot, she still marched up to him and poked him in the shoulder.

"Oi, thought I told you to sit tight and wait?"

The Doctor had had the decency to look a little sheepish as he turned around and scratched at his cheek in that endearingly nervous habit of his. "Yes, you did. And I was, but then I saw Alexis, and she told me she wanted the penguin and- well…" He'd trailed off at her narrowed eyes and frown, but Alexis had decided to break the silence for them.

"Thank you, mister!" The little girl had thrown her arms, penguin and all, around his legs. It had caught the Doctor off guard, but he'd managed to keep his balance and pat her on the head before she skipped off to find her parents. Amy hadn't been able to hide her little smile by the time he'd looked back up, and her friend smiled tentatively back.

"Come on," she'd finally said, grabbing his hand and tugging him forward. "Last one."

So now she found herself with an empty basket determinedly striding down the first aisle she chose…and the Doctor was not with her. Amy barely kept from pulling her hair out. "Doctor? Doctor!" She barely made it ten paces back the way she had come when he suddenly zoomed past her—on a shopping cart. "Doctor!"

The Doctor braked and spun the cart about with a remarkable degree of control. "Shopping carts! Now that's cool! Shopping carts are like Segway's, Amy, but manual. I love Segways!"

She had to remain calm. As Amy approached him, she said, "Doctor, we don't need a cart. We're only here for a couple things, so put it back. Normally," she hastened to add.

His face seemed to fall in disappointment. "Oh- but I thought, maybe you'd like to give it a go?"

"What?" She asked in bewilderment, somehow feeling like they were on some distant planet and he was trying to get her to test out some absurd part of the culture. How could he make her feel like that inside a grocery store?

He grinned invitingly. "Looks fun, doesn't it?"

"But- but, I'd crash!" She protested, not sure why she couldn't just give him a firm 'no'.

"Amy Pond, you think I'd let that happen to you?" He managed to look insulted, before that excited, reassuring smile worked its way back onto his face. "I'll steer."

"How? We can't both fit—no, Doctor, I am not _sitting_ in a cart like a little kid!" But he just kept smiling at her, holding his hand out like a gentleman preparing to help a lady onto a horse, and she found herself glancing up and down the empty aisle. One go wouldn't hurt, would it?

"Say wheee!"

They're flying down aisles and Amy was so sure this was going to end in some kind of crash, but she didn't care. Her bright red hair streamed out behind her as she laughs with abandon, and really, the only thing that would make this better would be if Rory were here, too. The Doctor spun them about once again, and—

"Amy?"

He skidded to a stop and Amy jerked forward a bit with leftover momentum. And she was crashing—back to Earth. Back to her normal life. Angela from down the street had just wheeled her own cart into the otherwise empty aisle, smart outfit, makeup perfect, hair up in a neat little bun, and her adorable son David in the built-in baby-seat. She was staring at Amy and the Doctor like she'd never seen anything stranger in her life.

Her friend was quick to help her out of the cart, and she laughed a bit to hide her mortification. "Angela—hi!" She glanced quickly at the Doctor who was oddly silent and staring at his boots. "This is, um—"

But he leapt into action before she could even think of what to say next. "John Smith, hello," the alien said with a polite and completely ordinary smile as he reached forward to shake Angela's hand. "Friend of Amy and Rory's from Leadworth, here on a visit."

"Oh, I see," Angela said with a nod, but her eyes kept darting to Amy and the cart uncertainly. "Very nice to meet you."

"You've got a lovely son," he commented, and of course that set Angela off babbling all about little David, and it wasn't until he nudged her with his foot that Amy realized it for what it was: a distraction. So, gladly, she snuck off with her basket, completing the shopping as quickly as possible with her head down and drawing as little attention to herself as possible.

Because she knew the gossip would be bad enough already. Guess who I saw at the grocery store the other day? Amy Williams and some strange young man in a bowtie—riding down the aisle in a shopping cart like a couple of teenagers!

She was surprised to find the Doctor sitting on a bench outside with the rest of their bags gathered around him. His hands were clasped together and his gaze lowered. Wordlessly she drops into the space next to him.

"So," she started, not entirely sure what to say to her unusually silent friend, and still deciding whether she wanted to laugh this off or be cross with him. "Got tired of hearing about all of David's firsts?" A thought occurred to her. "You didn't tell her he prefers the color green or something, did you Doctor?" Amy glanced sharply at him, but he was still looking down at his hands in his lap, his hair falling forward over his eyes so she couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, soft and low. If she didn't know what he was talking about, she'd have thought he was apologizing for blowing up the kitchen.

"Come on, it wasn't that bad," Amy reasoned, and bumped him playfully with her shoulder when he didn't look up. "I got in the cart, Doctor, I'm old enough to make my own choices and live with them—"

"Yes, you've grown up," he finally lifted his head and his eyes were big and watery and sad. "All those years ago I said you shouldn't do that—but what if I was wrong, Amelia? Maybe- maybe growing up isn't a bad thing." He paused to swallow around something, perhaps a lump in his throat, and Amy wanted to stop him. But she couldn't think of anything to say, and so he continued.

"Maybe growing up isn't about getting tired of waiting—" her hands flew to her mouth in horror because _he saw that_? He managed a shaky smile as he looked at her. "Maybe it's about not needing to wait anymore. Because there's so many things for you to do, Amy, that the things you were waiting for don't have a place. Those childish things you waited for are too silly and daft and old for a grownup." The Doctor bit his lip, hesitating one more moment before meeting her gaze again. "Maybe…it's about not needing—"

She's shaking her head, desperate to derail this conversation before he can finish. Her eyes caught on something red that he was holding between his hands. "What's that?" She asked, pointing at it. Instinctively he pulled it to his chest, between his two hearts.

"Nothing," he said defensively. "it's nothing, it's silly, it's—" his voice wavered. "Childish."

Amy slowly placed her hands around his and gently pried his fingers open. An apple. She took it and turned it over to find he had carved in a little smiley face. Just for her.

She met his eyes, now nervous and uncertain, and threw her arms around him in a hug. "I love it," she whispered, and heard him release the breath he'd been holding.

Finally, Amy pulled away and managed a smile. "Let's go home, yeah?"

When Rory got back from work he found them sitting on the couch in silence, Amy's head resting on the Doctor's shoulder and tucked under his chin. The nurse didn't say anything, didn't ask why dinner wasn't even close to being started. He just hung up his jacket, removed his shoes, sat on his wife's other side, and took up their hands in his.

**So, grocery shopping got way more emotional than I planned. Whoops? Oh well, I like it, so it stays. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks for reading, and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Took a break from this one in order to finish my other story, but now I'm back. So many ideas to choose from! Keep them rolling in guys, because in my opinion, this story never has to end. If you don't see one of your suggestions, it doesn't mean I don't like it; in fact, I'm probably saving it for later. At any rate, this next chapter idea was suggested by Sin respuestas. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Four**

He slowly pushed the door open, mindful of the creaky bottom hinge, and poked his head into the hallway. All clear. He then edged out into the empty hallway, carrying his trainers, and tiptoed in his socks through the house.

There was noise coming from the kitchen, and he reassured himself that they were busy with lunch, and wouldn't notice his absence until he was long gone. Nothing to worry about. He turned to the patio door, and—

"Rory!" The Doctor exclaimed jovially on the other side of the glass.

"Ah!" The nurse cried in surprise, dropping his shoes to raise his arms reflexively in defense, and jumped about half a foot in the air. Unfortunately as he was in his socks, he slipped on the smooth, wood floor and landed hard on his backside. "Ow…" he groaned, partly in pain and partly in embarrassment. This was going to be uncomfortable.

"I've barely seen you all day," the Time Lord commented, pulling open the patio door, toeing off his boots, which Rory noticed were caked with dirt, and stepping inside. The alien had also shed the tweed and rolled up his sleeves, gardening gloves on his hands. "Amy said I could have a go at the flower beds!" He held out one gloved hand as if to help the other man up, but Rory simply stared at the rather mud-stained appendage. The Doctor seemed to do a double-take and then grimaced, withdrawing his hand. "No, you're right, probably not the best idea."

"Yeah," he agreed, pushing off of the floor and standing on his own. It was at that moment Amy came around the corner with a sandwich in her hand.

"If you're calling it quits, that better mean my garden is completely weed-free, Raggedy Man," she warned.

"Yes, ma'am!" Their friend said, throwing a salute that lacked military crispness, but more than made up for it in enthusiasm. She looked pointedly at his still-gloved hands, nodding at the patio, and he quickly stripped them off and laid them outside.

"Aren't guests usually exempt from slave labor?" Rory couldn't help asking as the alien did so, and Amy pouted stubbornly.

"Not like I forced him. Anyway, what was all the commotion about earlier? Thought I heard someone yell." The smirk she gave him let him know instantly she was aware which of them had made the sound. Rory bent to pick up his trainers so as to avoid admitting it, but this unfortunately seemed to draw Amy's attention to his entire attire of shorts and a t-shirt with a jacket thrown on. "Just planning to sneak off to the match without lunch, were you?"

Before he could answer, the Doctor piped up with his own questions. "Match? What match? Are you going somewhere, Rory? I thought perhaps you were, only you didn't have your shoes on and that's sort of the first step in going anywhere. Well, first you have to decide you're going somewhere at all, and where that somewhere is, so have you decided on that, Rory?"

"Uh," he said, needing a moment to follow all of that. "Yes, I'm- going out."

It was the Doctor's turn to pout, and Rory wondered if perhaps he'd learned the expression from Amy because it was making him feel nearly as guilty. "But you go out every day," the alien pointed out, "how do you stand it, Pond?"

Amy, for her part, heaved an over-dramatic, long suffering sigh. "Oh, I do the best I can. Carry on, and all that."

"I mean, I'll be back in a couple hours," he hedged, lacing up his trainers now that trying to slip away had failed.

"But you're not dressed for work," the Doctor remarked, and Rory could see that his friend was viewing this as something of a mystery. And the Time Lord never gave up on a mystery. "Where are you going?" He tilted his head in curiosity, and was perhaps a second away from taking out the sonic.

But then Rory glanced at his wife. Because Amy knew perfectly well where he was off to, and could use that information however she pleased, to either be his salvation or condemnation. By the mischievous gleam in her eye he knew which one she had picked.

"Rory and some of the boys from the hospital scheduled a football match," she informed their friend, and he watched as the Doctor's whole face lit up in excitement.

"A football match? I _love_ football!" To Rory, it just seemed bizarre. But things were about to get even weirder. "Do- do you think, I could come, maybe? I've only ever been to one," the alien explained, looking at him hopefully.

"Well, uh—" he started, not sure what to say, but Amy rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on, you're always complaining about how you have an odd number of people and that it makes the teams unbalanced. Let him go." She placed a hand on her hip when he tried to signal at her to stop, and so he sighed in defeat.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" It wasn't that he didn't want the Doctor to come…it was just, these football matches were something for him and the guys. And sure, sometimes one of the others brought a friend along, too, but a _normal_ friend. Football matches were something for normal blokes, normal Rory Williams, and he wasn't certain how it might turn out if the alien joined in.

"Rory's got some spare shirts and shorts," Amy was saying as she ushered their friend into their room to change. When she returned to him, she was frowning. "Don't be like that," she scolded.

"Like what?" He replied defensively, and she rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean. You're all out of sorts because you think he's going to ruin your 'man time'—"

"It is not 'man time'—" he protested, but snapped his mouth shut at the glare his wife sent his way.

"I'll call it what I like," she retorted.

Rory took a deep breath before reaching out for her hand. He hated when she was cross with him. "Look, Amy, I'm not upset that he's coming," he reasoned, attempting to get her to meet his eyes. "I'm just sort of worried. The Doctor doesn't really- fit in, you know? With normal people. I just think it might make things uncomfortable for the others- the normal blokes."

"He's a bloke, too, and your friend," she insisted stubbornly, and he ashamed to admit she was right and he was being stupid about this. "Just watch out for him, that's all you have to do."

"Ok," he agreed, and she gave him a quick kiss on the lips as a reward. Well, that decided it for sure. Any awkwardness the Doctor might cause around his friends was worth it if Amy was satisfied.

The alien announced his arrival by thudding down the stairs in a pair of his own trainers. "Mind if I borrow a jacket, Rory? Mine's in the wash."

"Uh, no, that's fine," he replied, unable to help staring. Because seeing the Doctor in anything other than trousers and shirtsleeves was just…odd. Not because he looked weird—he looked _human_. In a pair of dark shorts, a plain white t-shirt, and a gray, hooded jacket, he seemed like just another face in the crowd. Completely unremarkable.

"So, are we walking or taking the car?" The Doctor asked, and Rory blinked. What a completely average question.

"It's not far, we can walk," he managed to answer.

"Suppose you two are skipping lunch, then," Amy said, heading back to the sitting room where she'd left her laptop that morning. She was staying behind to talk with her editor about the final draft of her latest article. "Tell Isha I said hi."

"Alright," Rory said, leading the way outside and down the street. The Doctor fell into step beside him, oddly quiet. He wondered if perhaps the alien was that excited about football, but decided that that wasn't the case. It wasn't the kind of quiet anticipation, it was calm, collected, controlled. It troubled him.

But Rory wasn't the type to pry, and for once the Doctor was not forth-coming, so the two men reached the field in silence. Nearly everyone was gathered, and they called Rory over in welcome.

"Glad you could make it," Ranjit clapped him on the back, and Rory returned the favor before accepting a hug from Isha, his coworker's wife.

"It's a shame Amy's busy," the woman said, "Now I have no one to make fun of you both with," she chuckled good-naturedly, and he and Ranjit laughed. Neither of them were the best footballers.

"Who's your friend?" Robert, a large, round man with a good temper from physical therapy asked, and Rory hesitated a moment.

"Oh, this is—"

"John Smith," the Doctor interrupted with an open smile as he briefly shook hands with Robert, Ranjit, Isha, and the others. "In for a visit. Rory here mentioned you had a match planned, and well, never could resist a chance to relive the glory days."

"Oh, so you were a footballer in school?" Ranjit asked, only mildly curious. It was the kind of question you asked while engaging in small-talk, something he thought he would never associate with the Doctor.

"Yes, actually," the Time Lord replied amiably. Rory could only watch, completely baffled, as this conversation went back and forth. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought this was stranger who just happened to bare a resemblance to the alien.

"Somebody call Frank and tell him we canceled the match, maybe he won't come," one of the others joked, and they all had to share a chuckle at that. Frank was an orderly who was incredibly athletic, which made him desirable as a teammate for their little scrimmages, but also incredibly disagreeable, which made him undesirable as a person.

"Too late," Isha nodded at something over his and the Doctor's shoulders. "He's here."

Rory turned to see Frank strutting across the field, his latest girlfriend on his arm. How the man even remotely attracted women was a mystery to him, but every match he had a new one. They were all relatively the same however, heavily applied makeup and scantily clad. This young woman was dressed in a halter top and extremely short jean shorts.

"See you actually showed up, Williams," the man called in probably what he thought was a joking manner. Rory doubted Frank actually cared whether he chose to come to these games, so he merely nodded.

"I brought a friend visiting from Leadworth, thought we could even up the teams. This is, uh, John Smith," and boy did that feel weird rolling off his tongue. "John, Frank."

Frank was a tall, broad-shouldered man and so he came to a stop in front of them and towered over the Doctor. Nevertheless, the alien stuck out his hand to be crushed in the orderly's grip. "Good to meet you, Frank. And your friend is…?"

"Caitlyn," Frank answered for the woman, who batted her eyelashes and flashed a big grin.

"Hi," she said, waggling her fingers at them in greeting. "Frank's told me all about you all—so I guess we're the strangers!" She giggled at the Doctor, who laughed politely at her weak attempt at humor, just like the rest of them. Just like any human.

At last, they broke off into teams, and the families or significant others of the men went to watch from the sidelines. This was as much a social event for them; for while the hospital workers played the game, they would catch up with each other and share the latest news and gossip. Rory was somewhat relieved that he was placed on the same team as the Doctor, as that would probably help him control how much damage the Time Lord accidentally caused. He wished his friend hadn't made up that story about being a footballer, considering he had just told Rory he'd only ever played once in his life. This cover story was going to be hard to maintain.

Half an hour later, he was eating those words. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps the Doctor really had been a footballer in his previous life. The alien tore around the field, scoring goal after goal, and it was simply amazing. Too amazing.

Rory had never been friends with the cool kids, or the sporty kids, so to have suddenly brought along the man who could beat everybody else at football was exhilarating. His focus on winning, however, had blinded him to the others. When they called half-time to relax and eat, Frank was absolutely fuming. But it was Ranjit who caused him alarm.

"That was unbelievable!" The man exclaimed, completely incredulous.

"Thanks!" The Doctor beamed, but Ranjit shook his head.

"No, I mean, seriously unbelievable. How are you not tired? Are you sure you're feeling alright?" The other nurse grabbed at the alien's wrist, and Rory's heart nearly stopped. Because if Ranjit took the Doctor's pulse—

"Oh, let it go, you're only questioning it cause you're losing," Robert, their team's goalie, chuckled, and Ranjit shrugged.

"I suppose, but still, you should at least be somewhat out of breath. That's not normal."

"It's not?" The Doctor blanched, and for some reason, his eyes darted to Rory, a guilty expression flitting across his features for an instant. But Ranjit had already started up a new conversation with Robert.

"Come and have a drink, boys!" Caitlyn exclaimed, taking a swig from her own bottle.

"Come and get it before it's gone," Isha remarked dryly, "she's already finished two."

Rory took one simply to be polite, and sipped once or twice. His eyes widened, however, when Frank's girlfriend slipped out from under his arm and stumbled right into his friend.

"Here you go, champ," she winked rather saucily, offering him a bottle.

"Oh, I really shouldn't," the Doctor said evasively, surprising Rory once again. Normally the alien would just take a drink from whatever alcoholic beverage he was given, and then spit it out.

"No, you're right," she agreed, bobbing her head up and down in an exaggerated nod before grabbing onto him by the elbow to steady herself. "Don't want to mess up your game, do we? Cause you know, John, I've been watching you…" she trailed off as she walked her fingers up the Time Lord's arm.

"Well, I- that is to say- you—" he fidgeted, the most like himself since he'd asked to come along to this game. Rory wasn't sure whether to count it as a victory, because then Frank walked up and tugged Caitlyn away. The orderly looked about to say something, but Roger, always looking to avoid conflict, called them all back on to the field.

The game continued on in rather the same manner, except for one marked difference. The Doctor was not nearly as spectacular as before. He started falling behind in races to get to the ball and stopping to brace his hands on his knees and take deep breaths exactly like Rory did. _Exactly_ like Rory did. The alien was…copying him?

Either way, their team was still way in the lead because of the first half, and in the last five minutes Rory found himself running with the ball down the field. Frank was heading over fast to intercept—but his friend was open. Seeing the Time Lord's eyes light up in that childish delight that had been missing nearly the whole day, Rory passed the ball. It went sailing rather high, but with absolute accuracy, the Doctor head-butted it into the goal.

Isha blew the referee whistle signifying the end of the match, and the nurse watched as Roger clapped the alien on the back in congratulations, the two laughing over something one of them had said like any other pair of men. He was glad Amy had convinced him to do this; despite his misgivings about the Doctor's odd behavior this afternoon, he'd had a nice, normal game of football with his normal, human friends.

He was shaking hands with Ranjit when it happened. Caitlyn lurched over to the Time Lord with a hiccup, slurred, "Congratulations, champ," locked her arms around his neck and forced her lips on his. In an abrupt reemerge of his natural personality, the Doctor flailed about with wide eyes before his hands finally found purchase on the women's shoulders and gently, but firmly pushed her back so she was at least an arm's length away.

"Caitlyn," he gasped, looking thoroughly appalled, "this can't- you and Frank—and I feel honor-bound to inform you I'm m—" But he did not get to finish as Frank had stormed over, hauled him around and swung right at him with his fist. There was a sickening _crack_ and his friend was lying back on the grass with his hands over his face and blood seeping through his fingers, as Roger and Ranjit wrestled Frank away and Caitlyn sobbed in her intoxicated state, and Rory was running forward, throwing himself down on his knees.

"Doctor! Oh no—are you ok?" He helped the alien sit up, and lightly pried his hands off of his face. Blood was gushing from the Time Lord's nose.

"Ahthink itht's bwoken, Worwy. Worwy, he bwoke mah noth!" Tears had sprung to the Doctor's eyes simply in reaction to the pain, but other than that he just seemed astounded.

"Right, well, can you stand up? Doctor?" He was perhaps panicking a bit too much, but the nurse felt absolutely awful—and it only got worse when he realized Amy was going to _kill_ him.

"No doctors here, Rory, you're not actually at work," Roger half-joked, seeing as he was mostly occupied with trying to control Frank. Rory paid him no attention as he guided the Doctor to his feet, because right now his best friend—his family—was hurt. Frank was lucky that was his first priority at the moment.

OoO

"Oh God, what _happened_?" Amy exclaimed in shock, as they came in the front door. Ranjit and Isha had driven them to the hospital, where Rory had patched the Doctor up as quickly as he could before anyone could try checking his vitals or prescribing medication, and then had the couple drop them off at home. Now his wife rushed over, hands hovering just over the Time Lord's shoulders, as if afraid to touch him.

Rory couldn't blame her. He'd packed the alien's nostrils with gauze to stop the bleeding, and applied a splint to straighten out the appendage. Though he was attempting to smile reassuringly at her, their friend looked a terrible sight. The nurse couldn't bear meeting her questioning gaze for shame, and cringed when the Doctor spoke.

"Itht's ok, Amby. Itht's onwy bwoken. Ah'll be fine by tombowrow."

"You just have a seat, Raggedy Man, and I'm going to get you a nice cup of tea," she fussed like a mother, ushering him into the sitting room and making absolutely certain he was as comfortable as possible. Having completed that, she tugged Rory into the kitchen, poking her head back into their sitting room to add, "And fish fingers and custard."

Once they were alone, Rory braced himself. "What happened?" Amy demanded again.

"Frank's new girlfriend got a little more than tipsy and decided she'd rather be John Smith's girlfriend," he muttered, and Amy shook her head while putting a hand to her forehead. "Frank didn't really like that."

"Oh, Doctor," she sighed, and began filling the kettle with water.

"Um, do you mind- before you bring that out –could I just talk with him for a minute?" She nodded, and so he slipped back into the sitting room. The Time Lord smiled in greeting, and that really only made him feel worse. But he forced himself to take the spot next to him on the couch. "Sorry, um, about," he gestured vaguely at his own rather prominent nose, but the alien just keep grinning.

"Dun wowwy ahbahitht, Worwy. Ah'll be wight ath wain in tha mownin," the Doctor patted him on the knee. Rory felt so miserable; he wasn't even the one who was hurt, and yet he was still being comforted. "Wath mah fawlt," the alien insisted. "Ahm too awd."

"Too old?" Rory guessed in confusion. Technically the Roman was older than the Time Lord, even if the other was catching up. But the Doctor shook his head.

"Too awd," he repeated, but sighed at Rory's continued blank look, a rather impressive feat since he nose was still stuffed up. "Nahda nowmal bwoke."

"Oh," was all Rory could say. His friend only hung his head in defeat.

"Ahm sowwy, Worwy. Ah twied tah fiddin with youwr fwiendsth."

If he'd felt miserable before, now he felt absolutely wretched. "You heard me talking to Amy this morning." It wasn't a question. The Doctor nodded. "So you decided to act like a normal person." Another nod. "Why?"

"Ah diddin wanyou to be embawassed." Was the simple response, and it was Rory's turn to sigh.

"I wasn't worried about you embarrassing me," he told the Time Lord, "I was worried the others might treat you badly. But that was unfair, to you and them."

"Ethep Fwank."

"Except Frank," he agreed with a nod. "I'm sorry if I made you think you had to be somebody you're not to make me happy. Cause that's not true. Amy and I, we like you just the way you are, Doctor. You wouldn't be our friend if you weren't odd—just like we wouldn't be the Ponds if we weren't odd." He risked a glance at his friend to find the other smiling warmly at him, and Rory returned it.

"Ok, who's up for some fish fingers and custard?" Amy asked, entering the room with a tray laden with tea cups, a plate of fish fingers, and a bowl of custard. She placed it on the coffee table and joined them on the couch.

"You know what?" He looked at each of them in turn, before picking up a fish finger and dipping it in the custard. "I think I am." And he took a huge bite. Amy raised both eyebrows in interest and the Doctor watched closely as he swallowed. "Actually, that's quite good," he remarked in some surprise.

Their friend beamed. "Ah _know_!"

**Finished! I felt I needed to do a more Rory-centric chapter, and I'm quite happy with how it turned out. It's not as emotional as the last one, but I think it still carries a rather important message. But you all be the judge of that. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much for the response, guys, I'm glad so many of you liked the last chapter! This one sort of combines requests made by superlc529, 10Blue10, and DoctorandAmyFan97. Hope you all enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Five**

He placed the ball on the tee, straightened up, set his stance, swung the club back, and sent the golf ball sailing across the green with a satisfying _whack_. Brian Williams shielded his eyes from the sun to see where it landed, and nodded to himself.

"Nothing to it, Doctor," he turned to the other man who appeared to be trying to balance his own club on his nose.

"What? Sorry—had a friend once who could do this, only with refrigerators! Thought maybe this nose would be better at it then the last one, especially after the way your son patched it up! It's good to have a nose, Brian Pond." He waited patiently through all this. One thing Brian had learned first in his years of marriage, then in raising a teenager, and finally in travelling with the Doctor, was that it was just better to let the person say whatever they wanted to say, and then swiftly move on.

"Would you like to give actual golf a try?" Honestly, the man didn't really care one way or the other; he was only taking a break from his vigil over to cubes as a favor to his son and daughter-in-law.

Brian had been rather surprised when he'd decided to pay his family a visit, and neither resident of the Williams/Pond household had answered the door. Instead, just as he had pressed the doorbell again, the front door had been wrenched open, and he'd been met with the beaming face of the Doctor.

"Brian Pond!"

"Williams," he corrected automatically, but as usual the alien seemed to disregard it.

"Good morning! It is still morning, isn't it? Only I'm not too sure- Amy and I had a rather heated argument. She seems determined not to let me anywhere near the stove, even though after twelve-hundred years you would think I may have learned a thing or two about cooking, wouldn't you agree?"

"It's still morning," he'd decided to give the diplomatic answer, as he rather trusted Amy's judgment. He wasn't sure why such a smart girl put up with the Doctor or Rory, quite honestly.

Speaking of his son, the nurse had come stumbling into view, still in his bedclothes. "Doctor, is someone at the—oh! Dad. Uh, hello," his son had glanced down at his bedraggled state and had looked back up, a sheepish expression on his face. All three had stood there, Brian staring disapprovingly at his son, Rory glancing away uncomfortably, and the Doctor content to look back and forth between the two Williams' with a smile still on his face.

"Doctor," Rory had muttered after an awkwardly long stretch of time. "You're supposed to invite the guest in the house."

"Hm?" The Time Lord had blinked, and then had done a double-take back in his direction. "Brian, what are you still doing out here?" The alien had seized him by the arm and Brian found himself being dragged into the house, his son following behind and absolutely powerless. "You'll catch your death of cold standing out there like that—except it's June," the Doctor had continued rambling. "Oh, but heatstroke! No, hang on, humans aren't _that_ prone to heat stroke. Not yet, anyway."

"Not yet?" His son, the nurse, had piped up in concern.

"Nothing to worry about, Rory, that's a good few billion years away," the Doctor had waved it off, finally releasing his hold on Brian's arm in the kitchen where he had guided him to a chair. Amy had turned around from her place in front of the stove, and he'd noted that while she, too, was in her nightclothes, at least she didn't look like she'd rolled out of bed five minutes ago. Though judging by the bags under her eyes, she had been up quite a while.

"Morning, Brian," she had still greeted pleasantly enough. "Would you like breakfast?"

"No thank you, Amy," he had declined politely, "I already ate."

"Good," she'd twisted around to turn off the burner before looking back at him. "Cause now that breakfast's all ready for them to eat, I can go back to bed."

"I _told_ you, Pond, I can cook!" The Doctor had insisted petulantly.

"Had a rough sleep?" He'd inquired, and the woman had given a sigh and collapsed into the chair across from him.

"You have no idea. It was alright until _guess who_ decided it'd be loads of fun to build a pyramid of cubes in our backyard, and then show it to me?"

"It was a scale model of the Pyramids of Giza, Amy! Do you know how long that took to—"

"At _three in the morning_," she'd ground out without even glancing the alien's way, effectively shutting her friend up. "Then, he says he'll make breakfast to apologize," she had laughed at the very notion, "like I'm letting him near anything with fire."

"Rory tried making me breakfast-in-bed once for Father's Day," he had commiserated, vividly recalling the incident. Amy had patted his hand sympathetically.

"Rory," he'd heard the Doctor mutter to his son from their place standing by the cupboards, "do you get the feeling they _like_ talking about us like we're not here?"

"Yep," had been his son's reply.

"So, I'm going to go have a lie-in," Amy had announced, getting up from her seat.

"I could do with some more sleep, too," Rory had agreed, and at Amy's look had added defensively, "Earplugs don't work when the loud person is literally shaking the person next to you."

"So then," the Doctor had asked quietly, not seeming to want to further incur Amy's wrath, "what do I do?"

He had been able to see the silent conversation that passed between the married pair, through narrowing or widening of the eyes, up-or-down turns of the lips, and little jerks of the head. So he had been somewhat prepared when Rory turned back to face him.

"Um, dad, would you really mind if…?"

And that was how Brian Williams found himself in this unique position. Playing a round of golf with a twelve-hundred year-old Time Lord. He marveled once again at how fantastically odd his life had become in such a short time.

They made their way through the course. The Doctor was abysmal at it—unless he put every last ounce of concentration into his swing. Then it was one good crack at it, and the ball flew across the green and into the hole. Brian was torn between being amazed and irritated, as he wasn't sure whether the alien was just toying with him or not. It wasn't that he absolutely had to win, it was just that he was a fairly decent golfer, and he'd made sure Rory was a fairly decent golfer, and he hoped someday to make sure Rory's son or daughter was a fairly decent golfer. If he couldn't get a grown man—albeit non-human—up to standard, maybe he was losing his touch.

But he couldn't forget the Doctor's first hole-in-one. After setting the ball delicately on the tee just as he'd shown him, the slightly shorter man had positioned himself carefully, eyed the ball for a moment, adjusted his stance, and swung. Brian, expecting yet another dreadful miss, had nearly shut his eyes in order not to have to see it. But, at the last second, he kept them open, and was rewarded with the sight of the golf ball dropping onto the green and rolling right into the hole.

He'd gaped, completely astonished that the other man had finally managed to pull it off.

"Was that right?" The Doctor had asked, and Brian had shaken his head to clear it and had turned to see the alien still standing with the club extended through the swing, staring with wide eyes at the hole where his ball had vanished, before those same eyes had flickered nervously to his own face.

"Well, yes," he told him simply. "That's exactly right."

"Really?" The younger-looking man had exclaimed, dropping the golf club and looking about to jump for joy. "That's fantastic!" And suddenly Brian had found himself in what could only be described as a hug, something he hadn't really received in quite a long time. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, and so he'd awkwardly settled for patting the Doctor on the back. "Thank you, Brian. Thank you for teaching me."

And he'd suddenly wanted to actually give that man a proper hug in return, because that had been exactly what he'd wanted to hear, though he'd only just realized it. But the moment had passed, and the alien had spun away, rushing off across the green.

They were now at the sixteenth hole, and Brian was preparing for another swing. He couldn't help but ask the Time Lord in curiosity, "Have you really never played golf before?" After all, he wasn't entirely sure how old the Doctor was, but from the little he had gathered from his son and his son's wife along with his own brief travels, he didn't look his age. It stood to reason he'd played a round of golf before- unless aliens didn't have golf.

"Oh," the Doctor almost laughed it off, "I suppose. Long time ago, though, Brian- completely different man then. And only ever with a blindfold—I'm rubbish with my eyes open, too many things to look at…" Brian shrugged, accepting the rather strange answer, and attempted to concentrate once more on his swing. But the Doctor was still talking. "Cricket though, I was quite good at cricket. Haven't had a chance to try it out in this body, yet, I'm afraid. Been meaning to—but I doubt Amy's much of a fan…none of the others were."

The others. The people who had travelled with the Doctor before. Who had left him, who had gotten left behind, and who had died.

His swing was much too powerful and his favorite golf ball dropped like a stone into the little man-made pond. Brian turned, resigned, about to grab another ball from his bag, when—

"I'll get it!" The alien was already halfway to the pond, and Brian had to speed-walk to catch up to the other man's long strides.

Huffing and puffing, he said, "That's really not necessary. I've got others just like it—"

"No you don't." The Time Lord glanced at him briefly as they came to a stop at the water's edge, and his eyes seemed to cut through him like he was examining everything within.

"Sorry?"

"You don't," the other man repeated. "That golf ball's special. That golf ball's the one Tricy gave back to you after he saved our lives. That golf ball's your favorite, Brian Pond, and I will get it back for you." The Doctor shrugged out of his tweed jacket and thrust it into his bewildered arms. "Careful with this," he warned, "though it should be safe. Mostly, anyway." What sort of things was the alien keeping in a jacket? "Back in a minute," the Time Lord grinned, and with a cry of, "Geronimo!" dived into the pond.

"It's Williams," he corrected belatedly as water splashed up and droplets just reached his knees. Standing there with his golf gear, Brian kept looking down at the jacket that hung limply in his arms, still warm. It wouldn't hurt to know what was in there, he reasoned, especially if it was something dangerous. Reaching in, he realized that like its owner, the jacket was anything but ordinary, as his hand travelled further and further into the seemingly never ending depth of a pocket. He first came across the strange device the alien referred to as the sonic screwdriver, and wary of what might happen if he accidentally pressed a button, he placed it back. Next came a little blank booklet sort of thing, nothing really remarkable about that.

But then Brian's fingers brushed against something else. For a moment he just dismissed it as another simple little booklet, and yet found himself pulling it out anyway. He had been right in that it was little, and something very simple. Yet it was the last thing he'd expected.

It was a photograph of a rather beautiful woman. She had an outrageous amount of blonde, curly hair that seemed to take up most of the photo, eyes that sparkled with both wisdom and a mischievousness he had not seen since Amy and Rory's friend Mels had disappeared from Leadworth, and full, red lips in a warm smile.

This picture should have been the kind placed in a frame and kept on a desk. But instead it was creased and dog-eared and faded with age, the corners worn away into smooth curves, as though someone took it out often to gaze at. This photo wasn't carefully kept, it was kept with care. With love. Just as its occupant gazed at the camera—the cameraman—with love.

And, feeling suddenly wretched and intruding, Brian hurriedly tucked the woman's picture back inside, bursting with a thousand questions but knowing he could never ask them. It wasn't his place. This was his son's friend, that was all.

"Found it!" The Doctor called triumphantly as he burst up from the center of the pond. Still occupied with his thoughts, Brian only briefly noted that that had been an extremely long time to be underwater, but the alien seemed in perfect condition as he began treading water to the shore, the golf ball clutched in one hand.

The splashing must have covered up the sound of approaching footfalls, for he was surprised to hear a voice behind him ask "Doctor?" Brian whirled around to see who had spoken.

OoO

The Doctor blinked and paused in his swim to squint up into the light at a man. No, hang on, was that—

"Jeff?" He couldn't keep the surprise from his tone, but the human did not seem offended. On the contrary, he was grinning.

"Well who would have thought? I was just practicing my swing—have a round to play with a client tomorrow—when I see some bloke jump into the pond. And I thought, I only knew one person who'd do something like that. And turns out it was you, Amy's crazy friend." It was a standard, rambling introduction, like one would give at a high school reunion, or some other sort of social function.

But the Doctor could only stare at this man who was and was not Jeff. Tall and still rather tan, the man was dressed in a rather expensive-looking polo and khaki pants, with fancy golfing gloves and designer trainers. Who wore designer trainers?

He'd also said clients, and that meant Jeff was in a company, and rather high up. But—

"We should get you out of the water," Brian had crouched down and offered his hand, which he numbly took, still unable to tear his gaze from the newcomer. Good old Brian Pond, the man half-heaved him from the water all by himself, and the sudden chill from the afternoon breeze was enough to shock him back into awareness.

"Yes I suppose that was very me," he acknowledged from his position, sopping wet and sitting on the grass. "So, Jeff, what exactly have you been up to?"

The man puffed up with pride. "It was just like you said, Doctor. Any job I wanted. Got in at a good-size firm, worked my way up to executive, now I'm this close to being made a partner."

Brian nodded, clearly impressed, but all he could feel was baffled. "That's- that's amazing, Jeff! You accomplished all that?"

"I've done quite a lot in the years since I met you," Jeff was clearly pleased at having stunned him so. But he barely noticed.

"Years," he breathed. Years since he'd met Jeff. Years since he'd met _Rory_. And years and years and so many years since he'd met little Amelia Pond.

The years had taken their toll on Jeff. Perhaps the stress of such a high position laid claim to most of the blame, but the signs of age were already showing. A fuller, flabbier face from high-end restaurant dining and slowing metabolism, wrinkles around the eyes from squinting at statements and documents late into the night, a slightly stooped posture from sitting at a desk day in and out, lines setting in permanently on a brow that had been furrowed far too often, and already a receding hairline pitifully masked by a comb-over.

But that just couldn't be, after all, Jeff was right about the same age as the Ponds!

_Dad, I'm thirty-one, I don't have a Christmas list anymore._

He'd met Rory when the nurse was nineteen.

_Ten years older. Ten years of you, on and off._

And now they were older than Jeff by ten years…because of him. Because he kept getting sidetracked. Because he just couldn't stay away. Because he was a stupid, stupid old man who preferred the company of the young, who only stayed that way a very short time.

Perhaps the curse of the Time Lords wasn't that he lived too long…it was that they lived too short.

"Anyway, got a conference call in an hour, so I'd best be heading home," Jeff was saying.

The Doctor stood. "Yes, you best. You go on, Jeff, and do what you can with the time you have, and you be amazing." His damp hand grasped the other man's tightly, and while Jeff looked slightly uncomfortable, the businessman still managed a smile.

"Alright. The same to you, Doctor." He watched Jeff walk away and disappear over the green. Even the man's movements were tired, weary, aged.

"Doctor?" Brian asked quietly after a time, and he looked back at Rory's father. To be a parent was perhaps the most exhausting job of all, because all it was was helping children to grow old, too. Children were a measurement of time, and what you did with that time allotted you. No other method more effectively judged if you'd made the most or wasted it. He knew. Inspiring them to follow a dream, teaching them the importance of life and helping others, guiding them to realize their potential…

…fashioning them into weapons.

The Doctor flopped down onto the green, landing on his back with a wet _squelch_ and cradling his head with his arms wrapped around, and gazed up at the sky.

"I'm tired, Brian. Would you mind it too terribly if this old man took a rest?" His eyes slid from the puffy white clouds straight above up and to Brian's contemplative face, hovering over him.

"That's fine. I could do with a rest myself," and the old human, but tragically young creature gently lowered himself onto the grass next to him, choosing to sit instead of lie down. He went back to watching the clouds, even as he knew the other was watching him. "Doctor?" Brian asked again.

"Yes, Brian," he responded, indicating with a tilt of his head he was listening.

"How old are you exactly? Did you meet Amy and Rory when you were young? How many friends have you had?" Three questions that when put together were all things he did not wish to think about. But he owed it to this man to answer.

The Doctor sat up, staring right at the older-looking man in the eyes. "What if I could give you the one thing humans have been searching for since the dawn of time, Brian? What if I could make it so that you wouldn't die- not just living forever, but living _young_ forever, your body having the vitality of a man in his prime? And you could go on, forever, meeting the most amazing people and seeing the most amazing things. If you could, Brian, would you?"

The man took a moment to consider, and he appreciated that. With youth came impulsiveness, but this question he hardly ever asked anyone needed to be thought about carefully.

"I don't think I would, Doctor," Brian said at last, his gaze never wavering. "Because, I have a feeling you mean only I would be like that, while everyone else—all those amazing people I would meet—would age around me. No father wants to outlive his children, Doctor, or his friends. And I think, even if I had all of time and space laid out before me, all the most beautiful things in the universe to see, I would be very tired at the end of the day, and very lonely, and very sad." Brian gave him a long, appraising look, the kind that made him quite sure they weren't talking about Brian Williams anymore. "I think all I would want to do is rest awhile, because my young bones would be very weary."

The man then stretched out his legs and lay back against the grass. The Doctor felt a wry smile come to his face, and relaxed back against the earth once more, tracking the lazy clouds across the sky.

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Brian," he said again, and somehow did not feel annoyed at this further interruption of preciously rare peace and quiet.

"You love them, Amy and Rory." It wasn't a question.

"With all my hearts."

"Did you love all your friends?"

His eyes slipped shut and he took a deep breath. "I still do."

Brian seemed to debate asking the next question. "Even when they've gone?"

He smiled ruefully. "Sometimes that's when I realized I love them."

When something familiar and warm and scratchy and tweed was suddenly laid over him, the Doctor opened his eyes to find Brian covering up his still wet torso with his own jacket, adjusting it like a blanket. Their eyes met.

"I'm sorry to hear about your children, Doctor."

The young being settled down again on the grass, his arms lying still on either side, palm-up, and the old being slipped one arm out from under his carefully laid, laid with care cover to place a little round golf ball in the other's hand. And though the little object was clasped between them, Brian Pond held his grandson-in-law's hand.

**Another mostly depressing one. I'm sorry! But I sort of wanted to write a chapter that explored a more mature side of the Doctor, and what better way than sticking him with Brian, as I personally feel those two characters pull that out of each other. Plus, I wanted to write a chapter with Brian anyway. Jeff comes from "The Eleventh Hour" for anyone who might have forgotten, and the italicized lines are quotes from Rory in "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship" and Amy from "The Power of Three", respectively. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and suggest ideas for the next ones! Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Felt the need to write some fluffy stuff after a particularly grim chapter of my other stories. So, more Doctor and Ponds! This chapter is inspired by DoctorandAmyFan97, and superlc529 who keep asking for more cubes. So, here you go—cubes!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Six**

"Rory, you haven't taken the rubbish out to the bins like I asked," his wife reprimanded him, but all Rory Williams could do was shrug helplessly as he set down the paper.

"Amy, I would love to take the rubbish out," he started, ignoring the doubtful quirk of her eyebrow, "But, there's a slight problem."

"Which is, Mr. Pond?" She inquired.

He hesitated, unsure of whether he wanted to further infuriate the Scottish woman in the short-term in order to defend himself in the long-term. Oh, what was life without a little risk? "Well, remember the Cube Pyramid in the backyard?"

Her raised eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "Yes," she ground out tersely, obviously still upset over the loss of her sleep that day.

"Well, you told the Doctor to get rid of it," he reminded. She nodded once. "So, he threw them away."

"So?"

"So, there's no space left in our bins outside," he finished.

"How?" She exclaimed in disbelief. "They're tiny, and there couldn't have been that many—there are still cubes in our house." To prove her point, she snatched the nearest one off a countertop.

"All I know is our bins are nearly overflowing with cubes. Not to mention, they're all over my morning news," he added, taking up the paper again and scowling at what was perhaps the seventh opinion article about the cubes.

"They have a show on the telly," Amy informed him, and Rory slapped the newspaper down on the table again to look at her in shock.

"Seriously?" She nodded. "What for?" His wife, having no answers, merely shrugged. Rory frowned again. "I really don't like this," he admitted. "I mean, I know I poke fun at dad a little for his 'log', but, maybe he's doing the right thing. We still don't know what these are even capable of," the Roman pointed an accusing finger at the seemingly innocent black cube. "And we're no closer to figuring it out than we were when we started 'watching' them." He tilted his head and looked at her as a sudden though occurred to him. "Has the Doctor even been doing anything about them?"

"I haven't really wanted to bring it up," she confessed. "You saw how well he did 'observing' them last time." He had to nod at that.

"Still, it's why he's here, isn't it?"

Now it was her turn to frown a little. "He's here because he's missed us," she corrected him.

"Amy, he's the Doctor. He's always got some sort of motive that has to do with saving the planet." Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say, for now she was really glaring at him.

"Says who? It's the danger that follows him. You and I know better than that, Rory. He's just a traveler—how's it fair for us to think he's always got a plan?"

"He's the man with a plan," he couldn't resist arguing.

"Because everyone else makes him!"

"He's not completely innocent, though," his chair was pushed back behind him as he stood, because right now he needed to be eye-to-eye with her. "If he doesn't want the danger, why not just settle down in one time and place? Have a normal life? He could do that, but he doesn't."

She couldn't seem to think of any way to defend the Time Lord on that point, and so changed tactics. "Oh, because it's been working for us so well?"

"Well, _I_ thought it was. Why, is there something you'd like to say?" He crossed his arms as her mouth fell open.

"No! But, I mean—"

"What?"  
"Divorce," she blurted that horrible word and he literally took a step back. "We weren't coping with normal life so well then, Mr. Pond."

"I guess we haven't been coping, Mrs. Williams," he snapped back.

She gasped. Actually gasped, and he felt a sudden stab of guilt—but why was it so wrong for him to call her by her legal name? Why was there always this taboo?

"Do you really have that much of a problem admitting you're my wife?" He interrogated.

"No, that's not it! I just like Pond—"

"Cause it's a fairytale name," he finished for her, unable to stop the sardonic roll of his eyes. "All you've ever wanted to be is Amelia Pond with a Raggedy Doctor to feed and look after!"

"Oh, that's rich, coming from the man who's only ever wanted me to be a mother!" She fired back with a derisive snort. But there was a wetness in her eyes that came whenever they talked of parenthood.

"That is not true—" he said, attempting far too late to backpedal.

"Because you've been so supportive of my work in the past? What did you call my modeling—pouting at a camera!"

He had to open and close his mouth a couple times, because she was right, those had been his exact words. "I was hurt!" He tried to explain. "You'd kicked me out—"

"Gave you up!"

"Yeah, well you never considered that maybe I didn't want to be given up! But that's all anybody ever does- oh, I guess Rory's dead, we'll just leave him here! Or, Rory can't hold a ladder right, I guess he's a useless son! Rory's not here on the night before my wedding, so I guess I'll just snog the nearest alien—" Her slap should have been expected, but he still staggered backward from the sheer force, cheek stinging.

"I'm sorry we're not perfect!" She practically screamed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry we're not all Rory Williams—the nicest, smartest, bravest person in the universe! Maybe if we were, we'd figure out the cubes and put an end to all alien invasions and find the cure for cancer- but we're not!" She put her face in her hands and it took him a good minute to realize she hadn't been being sarcastic.

"Amy," he reached out to touch her shoulder, but she flinched back and stepped away.

"Go, just- just go," the redhead looked up, tears really pouring down her cheeks now. She scrubbed at them in vain and took on a harsher tone when he didn't move. "I don't want to see your stupid face right now! Just _go_!"

And so, not wanting to but having no other choice, Rory hurried out the front door, slamming it behind him.

OoO

The Doctor was spending his morning like he'd spent most of his mornings at the Pond's house; lying in the grass just in front of the TARDIS doors and watching the sun rise. Yes, the ground was usually still rather wet with dew, and sometimes the singing birds could hog entirely too much attention for his easily-distracted liking, and once in a while it was too cloudy to really get a good look at the sun. But it was nice, and quiet, and just enough of a break for him and the Old Girl.

That was until late this morning, when the shouting of his two best friends shattered his hearts.

"…Amelia Pond with a Raggedy Doctor to feed and look after!"

"…coming from the man who's only ever wanted me to be a mother!"

"Rory's not here on the night before my wedding, so I guess I'll just snog the nearest alien—"

"I'm sorry we're not perfect!"

"Just _go_!"

And those were only some of the absolute worst bits he'd been able to pick up. The Time Lord had laid there, paralyzed, in the grass and listened. This was usually where he'd jump in and derail the conversation or help them reconcile their differences—but what if he only made things worse?

Then it was too late, because the slam of a door indicated that Rory had once again done as Amy had commanded and left. Before he could even make a move, the door of the patio was flung open, and Amy Pond stood framed in the doorway, not even bothering to hide the fact she was crying.

"Doctor!" She called almost desperately, her bleary eyes locking on the blue TARDIS. But when he made to get up, she merely hurried over, motioning for him to stay down. "No, it's fine, I just—" She plopped down on the grass beside him and couldn't seem to say anymore, she was such a sorry mess.

"Oh, Amelia," he breathed, afraid to touch her- because he remembered quite vividly what roll he'd had to play in this argument between husband and wife. "What happened?"

"I don't know!" She choked through her sobs, wiping every so often at her eyes, which kept running over with the salty water immediately after. "I don't know, we were just talking about the stupid cubes, and then he said things and I said things and—_hug me_, you numpty!"

"Oh!" The Doctor wrapped his arms about her trembling form, leaning against the doors of the police box as she cried into his chest. When her crying had subsided to little gasps and sniffles, he asked quietly, "What about the cubes?"

He glanced down to see her furrow her eyebrows. "It's hard to say," she started. "It's just, they're everywhere, and it's getting a little annoying." He nodded. "And," Amy bit her lip and looked unsure whether to continue, so he offered a little reassuring smile. "Well, I think Rory mentioned you didn't seem to be making much progress on them, which was a little odd since that's why you're staying with us—Doctor?"

For the smile had slipped off his face and he'd deflated, his arms falling away from Amy so that she was merely leaning her weight on him. She pulled back, looking at him with some concern, and perhaps even mild suspicion.

"What's wrong?" She demanded, and he felt ashamed for causing her worry so soon after such an explosive fight. And he'd known this conversation had to be coming any day now. If not with Amy, then Rory or Brian.

"Nothing, Pond," he raised a hand to placate her. She seemed to relax some and so he sighed. "But your husband is right; I'm not making much progress on the cubes. In fact, I'm barely making any progress at all."

"Oh?"

He grimaced, on the edge of the real big reveal. "Truth of the matter is, Amy, I've done everything I can. Until the cubes choose to do something—if they ever do," he couldn't keep from grumbling, and was rewarded with an amused chuckle from her. "There's nothing more to be done."

"So? What's your point?" Her face was mostly dry now from where she'd laid it against his shirt, and so it was straight to the matter with the big ginge.

"My point is- when I asked if I could stay with you and Rory to watch the cubes, I was lying." She nodded to show she understood, and the Doctor tried not to dwell on what a terrible man it made him that his closest friends and family could so easily accept and forgive his falsehoods. "I asked to stay with you because I missed you."

"Got that already, thanks," she interjected impatiently, and his lips turned up in a smile.

"I suppose you could say I'm trying to 'settle in one time and place', at least for now. With you and Rory." She almost seemed to glow with happiness at the words, but then looked him seriously in the eye.

"How long do you think you'll stay?"

He smiled sadly. "Who knows? Don't ever promise forever, Amelia. But I made up that excuse about the cubes for a reason. I'll stay for however long you'll have me- you and Rory won't want me around forever."

It was the wrong thing to say for exactly the right reason: she needed to hear it. But it didn't mean she wanted to. Amy's lip quivered and her eyes watered anew, but she swallowed and instead collapsed back against his chest.

"Why do you always have to say things like that?" His arms came around her again as he let her just rest on him and listen to his breathing, his heartbeat. "Whatever happened to being the optimist?"

"This is being the optimist."

She snorted softly, pushing off him and flopping onto her back in the grass. "What's so optimistic about that?" Amy raised a challenging eyebrow.

He gazed down at her solemnly until she lost the teasing look. "You and Rory would be together, safe, and you'd be allowed to actually have your normal lives. That's a fair bit of optimism. And it'd be enough for you, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," she said quietly after a long moment, before giving him a considering look. "Would that be enough for you?"

"No." He answered truthfully. "But it's always been enough to get by."

She patted the spot on the grass next to her, so he shuffled down, put his hands behind his head, and crossed his legs at the ankles. Side-by-side with Amy Pond.

OoO

He started off jogging down the block, feeling upset and regretful and frustrated all at once. They'd been having a simple conversation about taking the rubbish out! Why did things always have to escalate with Amy? Well, he guessed she wouldn't be Amy if they didn't.

They'd both taken their cheap shots at each other, used up everything in their arsenals. But it hadn't done any good. If he'd just kept his mouth shut about those stupid cubes, then maybe he wouldn't have to be going on a run to cool off while his wife had a good cry.

Rory just couldn't help it. The cubes unnerved him. They were everywhere, and yet no one paid them any mind. Perhaps if the Doctor knew what they were, he would feel more at ease, but all the unknowns about them made him on-edge. And that always made him much more likely to actually argue with Amy.

The problem was, while he wanted to know what the cubes were, he didn't at the same time. Because the cubes were the reason the Doctor was staying with them, and if the Time Lord had no legitimate reason, then they had to start thinking about those difficult questions like which life to choose and how long was he staying for and a whole host of things Rory and Amy were not prepared to deal with.

He doubted they ever would be.

Maybe…they could just drop it. Not really focus on the cubes, or where they came from, or what they were for. Maybe, for once, they could let somebody else come up with the plan.

Now that he had that idea in mind, there was only one thing Rory wanted to do at the moment: apologize to his wife.

He ran back to the house and caught his breath in the foyer. "Amy!"

"We're out in the back!" He heard her voice come from outside, so Rory stepped out onto the patio to find the Scottish woman and the alien cloud-gazing. Still feeling a bit breathless from his sprint back home, the nurse walked out onto the lawn and dropped down next to the redhead.

"Amy, I'm sorry about—"

"Oh, I know," she waved it off, smiling sweetly up at him, but he still felt it should be said.

"I mean it. And- and I'm sorry you felt like I was pressuring you for kids, because it was never your fault what they did to you. I don't care about that, as long as you're with me."

Amy's smile, if anything, grew larger as she sat up and leaned in to kiss him. It was shaping up to be a rather good one when—

"Breathe! Hello? Yes, hello, Earth to Ponds!" They both leaned away reluctantly to glower at the Doctor. He had the grace to look a tad sheepish. "Sorry. But, couldn't help noticing—kids? Is that what you two were fighting about last time?"

"If by last time you mean 'got a divorce', yeah," Amy replied.

"Right, but at Demon's Run, when you got kidnapped- the fault entirely mine –and we had to come rescue you—"

"We were all there, Doctor, and it wasn't your fault," Rory interrupted.

"Debatable," the Time Lord stubbornly insisted before continuing. "Anyway! Amy, _before_ we came to get you, _before_ they did something to you, something else happened."

They both nodded slowly, and he sighed, sticking his hand into his pocket, though why he needed the sonic or the psychic paper was beyond Rory. He was prepared to sit and wait, but then a look of alarm and- dare he say –despair crossed the alien's face.

"What- where- I keep it- someone must've—Ohhh Brain! You Ponds, you're too nosy for your own good!" All this was said as he rummaged about and peered into a tiny space that was much larger than it appeared.

"Doctor, what is it? Just tell us," Amy suggested as he continued his frantic search.

"Just a moment, Pond, I have to—aha! There," he pulled out what looked like a worn piece of paper, perhaps a photo. Amy tried to look over his shoulder, but the alien pressed it flat to his chest. "No, no, not yet, Amy."

She gave a frustrated harrumph as Rory articulated for them both. "Then what is it? What's your point?"

The Doctor seemed to observe the two of them for a moment, sitting next to each other on the grass, Amy's hand resting on top of his. "Ponds. Magnificent, glorious, forgetful Ponds," their friend shook his head, and Rory frowned, seeing Amy do likewise. "You two had a falling out over children. Amy thought you were upset, Rory, because she can't give you any children." They nodded, and for some strange reason this caused his face to stretch into a smile. At last he pressed the photo toward them, and they reached for it together. "But look at her!"

River, with her wild curls, grinning at the camera. Such a simple picture, and yet Rory felt something warm in his heart just at the sight of his daughter. Beside him, Amy was misty-eyed and smiling.

"She's beautiful," the Doctor said, and Rory glanced up to his their friend—their son-in-law—gazing at the photograph, a softness to his features that didn't often show.

"Yeah," Amy agreed quietly. Rory wound his arms around her waist.

"_Our_ daughter." They shared another kiss, and it wasn't until a shadow fell over them that they broke apart and realized the Doctor had stood up. "Where are you going?"

"Crisis Pond averted," the Time Lord replied, a satisfied smile on his face as he straightened his bowtie.

"That doesn't mean you have to get up," Amy pointed out, tugging like a kid on the alien's trouser-leg.

"No, but Rory's right. Those cubes…I should have another look at them. Someone's got to figure out what they're here for." He reached down to gently pry each of her fingers off, giving her hand a little squeeze before straightening back up.

And Rory felt wretched for being right. Because maybe it would be better if the alien got down to the bottom of the Invasion of the Cubes. But the Ponds didn't want that, and neither did the Doctor.

"I've got a better idea," he decided, rising to his feet and pulling Amy up with him.

OoO

They made sport of it, hunting up and down the house for every last one of them. Amy went down to the shops—minus the Doctor this time—to get the supplies. But it was Rory who bought the gasoline.

He had to work to keep visions of the Time Lord's body burning in a boat out of his head as the two worked to clear an area. Their friend seemed to choose not to comment on it, so neither did he.

"I'm back! That all of them?" Amy asked, returning to the backyard with a shopping bag.

"I think, but we'll probably find more later. I didn't realize we kept this many," he remarked, gesturing to the significant pile of cubes they'd amassed. Now that they were all here, he began pouring the gasoline.

"Are you sure this will work?" The Doctor couldn't seem to keep from asking.

"Yep. Dad did it for day one-hundred of the 'log'," Rory told them, taking the matchbox from Amy, who was grinning. "He wanted to spice it up a little."

And so the pile of cubes lit up in flame.

"It doesn't affect them, but they keep burning for quite a bit, especially if you throw a stick in every once in a while." He went and retrieved three chairs, while Amy started taking out the things she'd bought. Chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers.

"Have you ever had s'mores, Doctor?" He heard his wife asked, and returned with the last chair to see the alien's face scrunch up in confusion.

"No. What exactly is a s'more?"

Amy smirked. "Camping food staple. Here, take this," she speared a marshmallow on a little metal pole bought for the occasion. She motioned for him to hold it out toward the bonfire. If anything, the Time Lord looked even more perplexed, his nose wrinkling.

"Why do I want to light a marshmallow on fire?"

"You don't," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "But go on, you can make mine—I like them burnt." So he held the pole aloft, almost like a giant sonic screwdriver, and seemed enthralled with the way the marshmallow lit up, shining brightly for a moment and then being consumed by the fire, colors fading and then darkening from golden brown to charcoal black. "That's good," Amy told him.

She showed their friend how to stick it in between two graham crackers, a piece of chocolate added in, and handed him his own from the marshmallow she'd toasted for him. Rory joined them in sitting down in the chairs, taking a bite into his s'more before observing the alien.

The Doctor, never one for caution, took a large bite, his eyes lighting up at the brand new taste and experience. "That's quite good, Ponds," he said at last, starting on the rest of it. "An unusual combination, to be sure—"

"Says the man who eats fish fingers and custard," Amy teased.

"But very good," he finished, a slight nod all the indication the Time Lord gave to her remark.

"I guess that means you'll just have to eat more," she replied, getting up to prepare another marshmallow. "You have to try at least one burnt one."

The Doctor made a face, then started as Rory tapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, Rory?"

"Um, here," he produced the photo of River that he'd been hanging onto all this time from his pocket, passing it back to its owner. The Doctor blinked in surprise, before tucking it away once more, patting his pocket where it rested over his chest. "Thanks, by the way," Rory added, "I think we needed to hear that."

Their friend gave a modest shrug. "You would have figured it out on your own." He seemed quite confident. Rory wasn't nearly as sure.

"It still took you pointing it out," he insisted. "Sometimes I don't know how we manage without you." He chuckled weakly, but stopped when the other man didn't join in.

The Doctor smiled, but the nurse felt he might as well have just burst into tears for all the sadness it seemed to convey. "You will. And you will manage brilliantly."

He wanted to protest, to tell him he was wrong, had to be wrong. But Amy piped up from over by the blazing cube. "It's ready, Doctor!"

The twelve-hundred year old grimaced, patting Rory twice on the knee and getting to his feet. "Right, now I've got to try a burnt marshmallow. Wish me luck."

And even though they both found them disgusting, Rory and the Doctor smiled through the scorched aftertaste and told Amy they were delicious. She threw her head back and laughed at the obvious lie, proclaiming, "That's my boys!"

**Right, so that one had its ups and downs, but I think I successfully ended it on a happier note this time. I feel kind of unoriginal for using the picture of River in consecutive chapters, but it was necessary. The one thing that bugged me about Asylum of the Daleks—Amy and Rory kept talking about how they couldn't have kids, or she couldn't give him kids, and I was like, "But you _have_ a kid! You have a daughter! Helloooooo?" Anyway, this was me trying to rectify that. So thanks for reading and please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Because you guys are awesome and fill me with happiness, it's time to update this story! I'm glad you guys enjoyed the last one, even if it included a Pond Fight, and I'm hoping you'll like the next one. This chapter is mainly inspired by Mrfipp, though I think some of you have requested something similar. So sorry for the long wait and enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Seven**

She scrolled through emails, leafed through paperwork, and checked her messages with a little smile on her face. Normally, the drudgery of running UNIT was not cause for such undue cheerfulness, but the head of communications had forwarded her a rather amusing email this morning.

Kate Stewart was aware that Brian Pond had been keeping a log of the cubes, and while it didn't seem to have much effect, she had to admire his dedication. So she hadn't been surprised when the older man's face appeared on the screen.

"Brian's log, day—"

"Hello Kate!" The Doctor had sprung into the frame, waving enthusiastically at the camera. "How's UNIT? Just thought I'd say- haven't really found anything out about the cubes yet, still working on it, but as soon as I _do_ know anything, I'll let you know. If you need me, I'm with the Ponds—"

"Williams'," Brian had corrected absently.

"So, hope to see you soon." He'd grinned, but then seemed to have a sudden thought. "Well, chances are, if I do see you, that means the cubes would probably be doing something, which would be bad. Not that seeing you would be a bad thing, just potentially threatening to the continued existence of Earth. So…is this the part where I awkwardly say goodbye, Brian?"

"Yes," the older-looking man had answered with remarkable patience.

"Oh, well then. Goodbye, Kate!" Brian had sighed and reached forward to stop the video, and so it ended with the human man looking somewhat disgruntled with a slight hint of fondness, and the alien smiling unabashedly out at her.

Since viewing that video, she'd been in a good mood the entire day. Though it had never been the primary reason she had joined UNIT, she had always wanted to meet the man who her father had considered such a good friend. And she couldn't help but feel a sort of sense of pride that in the old UNIT it was always 'Captain' or 'Colonel'. But he used her name. True, she didn't have a rank, but he could just as easily say 'Director Stewart'. That he used her name meant he obviously approved of the changes in the organization. And that proved that she was taking UNIT in the right direction.

She also just couldn't keep from smiling to herself every time she thought of the Time Lord's goofy grin. It was so odd and yet so fitting that one of the most respected and somewhat feared beings in the universe could be so unbelievably _happy_. It gave Kate hope that Earth didn't need to be militaristic, didn't need to be armed to the teeth to face what was out there.

Naturally, her good day just had to be ruined in order to keep the world in balance.

A rap of knuckles sounded on her doorframe, which was not unusual—she had an open-door policy. But it was moments like these she was tempted to reconsider that decision.

Looking up, whatever smile she had on her face soured. "Captain Harkness, what a surprise."

"A pleasant one, I hope," the Captain returned with a smirk as he leaned casually against the doorframe.

"If you choose to hope," she replied curtly. While Jack Harkness, the leader of Torchwood Three, had been an ardent supporter and an irreplaceable aide to Kate's transformation of UNIT, there were certain aspects of his character that simply got on her nerves. Specifically the flirting part. Wanting to avoid as much of that as possible, she asked, "What brings you here today, Captain?"

"Nice to see you too, Kate," the man chuckled, pushing off of the doorframe and walking into her office proper. "Alright, I can see you want me to leave. I'll be more than happy to, if you'll do something for me." The way he stood towering over her desk did not bode well.

Resisting the urge to stand up to try and decrease the height difference between them, Kate merely regarded him coolly as she inquired, "And what would that be?"

He grinned. "Just answer a simple little question, Kate." The Captain leaned forward, bracing his palms flat on her desk so that she had to lean back in her chair somewhat to maintain the distance between them. "Where is he?"

Oh dear.

"Who?" She stalled, worried about what was sure to follow. Kate was well aware of the friendship that existed between him and the Doctor. She was also aware, due to nights out spent drinking to relieve UNIT-induced headaches, that the last time the Captain had seen the Doctor, the Time Lord had been very solemn, leading the human to believe something was very wrong, which had caused him to worry ever since. And lastly, she was very aware that Jack Harkness tended to react like a mother protecting her cubs when it came to the people he worried about.

He shook his head. "Don't pull that with me, you know exactly who I'm talking about. The Doctor. I know you've seen him."

Kate raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Oh? How can you be so sure of that?"

"Because you've got that little smile on your face that every UNIT member from the lowest orderly to the highest authority gets when they've met The Legend." His victorious face was incredibly smug as she attempted to school her features into a more neutral expression. "C'mon, Kate- what was he like? Everything your dad said he was?"

She managed to remain stubbornly silent for a good minute. "More," she finally admitted, and couldn't stop herself from returning the Captain's wide smile.

"Knew it! Now, can you tell me where he is?" She hesitated a moment, causing him to sigh. "Please, Kate…I just want to make sure he's ok. I didn't really think about it at the time, but we all just sort of- left him alone. And then—I just need to see for myself."

Giving in at the remorseful expression on his face, Kate took up a pen and paper, pulling up the address. "He's staying with a married couple to watch the cubes."

The Captain looked surprised at this information. "How'd he end up there? The Doctor's not exactly into domestic life."

She simply shrugged. "That's where he is, take it or leave it." He snatched the paper she held out to him, then grabbed up her hand and kissed it.

"Thank you!"

"Out!" She ordered, though he was already long gone. Kate sighed and shook her head. Jack Harkness was the Doctor's problem now.

She wondered if the Time Lord would forgive her.

OoO

"I'll get it!" Amy heard Rory call after a knock sounded on the door. She was pretty sure her husband was recalling the last time they'd let the Doctor answer the front door for them—the poor delivery man had been held up a half an hour. Still, she was curious as to who the visitor might be, for they weren't expecting any packages and Brian had stopped by just yesterday. So, Amy entered the hall just as Rory was opening the door.

"Hello?"

"Hi," She saw a rather tall man over her husband's shoulder, with a handsome face, dark hair, and a friendly grin. "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering—"

The door suddenly slammed shut with a bang, and she jumped in surprise at the forceful noise. She was even more surprised to see what had been the cause- or rather, who had been the cause.

It appeared the Doctor had snuck around behind the door—or perhaps had been hiding there—and thrown it shut before the stranger had barely had time to speak. Their friend was now braced against the door, breathing heavily, and with a mixed look of shock, guilt, and downright fear on his face.

Rory blinked. "Uh, Doctor—"

"_Shh!_" The Time Lord hissed, that element of fear to his expression spiking as he held one finger up to his lips. "He can probably hear you!"

"Why is that a bad thing?" The nurse whispered, seeming to have decided to humor the alien. But the Doctor didn't seem to hear his question.

"This is bad- this is really very not good—I don't even _understand_ how he—thought when I confiscated my hand that'd be the end of it, but _no_—"

"Confiscated your hand?" Amy repeated incredulously, joining him and her husband by the door.

"_Shh_!" The Doctor repeated, casting an anxious glance back at the door, as though suddenly the man he'd rather rudely shut out would suddenly phase through it or something. Amy merely placed a hand on her hip. "It's a long story, Pond," the alien finally said, "But the man on the other side of that door is a sort of friend-stalker."

Amy and Rory shared a glance before the redhead let out a disbelieving laugh. "You have a stalker? Doctor, do you realize how impossible that'd be? No one else has got a little phone box to follow you around with."

"And if you do have a stalker who lives on Earth in the twenty-first century, why do you keep coming back?" Rory pointed out. "I mean, just jump forward a couple of centuries if you want to visit Earth, problem solved."

But the Doctor rolled his eyes, and only seemed to grow more agitated. "You don't understand, Ponds—he _doesn't die_, he'll still _be_ there!"

"What, he's immortal?" Rory reached for the doorknob, perhaps to pull it open and get a good look at their would-be visitor, but the Doctor vehemently shook his head.

"Rory, you really don't want to do that."

"And why not?" The nurse asked, obviously growing frustrated with the alien.

"Well, think of it this way—you know how Amy's got that thing with the flirting?" He grimaced at the scowl she sent his way. So what, she liked to have a little fun, what was the harm?

"Yep," her husband answered.

"Ok, well, think of that, but multiply it by about a hundred-million," the Doctor instructed, waiting a beat before adding, "And _then_ stick that in a room with Amy Pond."

Rory's eyes seemed to go wide in almost horror as he backed away from the door. "Oh. You're probably right then, really don't want to be doing that—"

"Hang on there a minute," Amy interrupted, feeling quite cross with both men, and they both looked at her nervously. "Doctor, you said he was a sort of friend."

"Friend-stalker, Pond, there's a difference," he deflected.

"But he's still your friend, yeah?" She pressed, and could see him desperately trying to work out a way around answering her.

"Well, yes."

"And just when was the last time you've seen him? Cause you're twelve-hundred now, but I met you when you were nine-hundred and seven, so that's at least a good three-hundred years. You haven't seen your friend in three-hundred years?" That was worrying. If this mystery man behind the door was like the 'old them', would the Doctor treat _them_ this way someday? That cold feeling she'd felt grip her heart when they'd first met Queen Nefertiti and Riddell was back.

"Three-hundred for me, Amy, but only a few for him—"

"Well then, you're well overdue to catch up. Now we are going to open that door like proper hosts and greet our visitor, do you two get that?" She leveled them each with a stern gaze. Rory reluctantly nodded and the Doctor gulped before bobbing his head up and down once and slowly moving away from the door to stand on her other side. "That's more like it, boys," she said, satisfied, and then pulled the door back open.

The man was still standing there as if he hadn't had their front door slammed in his face, smiling charmingly, and she abruptly realized she didn't even know his name.

"Er, hi—"

"Captain Jack Harkness, Miss…?" He trailed off, leaving her open to fill in her own name.

"Amy Pond," she replied, just as Rory added,

"Mrs."

Captain Harkness turned a rather amused look on her husband. "Well, pleased to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Pond."

"Oh, stop it," she heard the Doctor grumble under his breath.

"Well, uh, actually, I'm Williams—Rory Williams, Amy just sort of uses her name, too…" Rory began to explain, but the Captain was now just staring at the Doctor.

"What?" The alien asked, tugging at his bowtie in a self-conscious manner when the other man didn't say anything. "_What_?" He repeated with a slightly annoyed tone, as the Captain smiled again.

"See you did another one-eighty with the fashion, Doc." When the Time Lord pouted and turned as if to retreat down the hall, Jack Harkness attempted to placate their friend. "Hey, it's not a bad thing, I like it. It's cute!" Well, that at least stopped the Doctor from leaving.

"_Cute_?" He repeated indignantly

"Sure!" The man responded, smirking at the other's outburst. "You got the little bowtie and the braces—"

"_Cute?!_"

"And you didn't do too badly for yourself in the looks department either," the Captain commented, and Amy wasn't sure if she was amused or uncomfortable with the idea that he really seemed to be _looking_. On the one hand, this was shaping up to be one of the most hilarious encounters she'd seen involving the Doctor. But on the other, she sort of was his mother-in-law, and she supposed she was obligated to protect her daughter's marriage. "I haven't decided about the chin, though," Captain Harkness was saying.

"Let go of my face!"

The man did so, stepping back and simply beaming. "It's good to see you again, Doctor."

The Doctor managed to shake off his disgruntled air to return the smile. "Ohh—likewise, Captain."

Amy grinned to herself, satisfied that she'd been proven right. "Well, you got here just in time for dinner, so you're more than welcome to join us, Captain."

"I'd be honored, Ms. Pond. But please, Jack is fine." He gave her a winning smile.

"Then I insist on Amy," she returned, before tugging Rory by his sleeve toward the kitchen. "We just need to finish up a couple things, so you two can just catch up. Show him to the table, Doctor, we'll be there in a bit."

"Amy," the Doctor whined, clearly upset at her little trick. Honestly, he was acting like she was abandoning him to a fate worse than death.

"Go," she ordered, pointing him in the right direction, and he sulked a bit before turning on his heel and leading Jack away. She shook her head and went with Rory to the kitchen. It'd be good for the alien to talk with his friend. She was sure of it.

OoO

"You know, I almost didn't believe it when Kate said you were staying with these two," the Doctor heard Jack speak up from behind him. Ah Kate, so that's how he'd known where to find him.

"Well, what's wrong with that?" He asked, perhaps a bit defensive, for when he glanced back Jack had his hands raised up in the classic 'calm down' gesture.

"Nothing. Just doesn't seem like the type of thing you'd do. Staying with people."

"Well, they're not people, they're Ponds," he replied petulantly, as if that settled the matter. "They're different."

"Different like Donna was? Or Martha- or Rose?" He hadn't realized he'd frozen in place until the Captain crashed right into him, causing him to stumble into the wall. Those names…he hadn't heard those names uttered aloud for a long, long time. Even when he'd seen the images of those that owned them, floating before his dying gaze in Berlin like ghosts to carry him off, he'd been unable to name them. He hadn't had the courage to name them.

When he glanced up, Jack had a look of regret on his face as he quickly apologized. "Sorry, Doctor, I didn't mean to—"

"It's- it's fine—" Had he actually stuttered? The Doctor shook his head quickly, and then gestured Jack through the archway into the Ponds' dining room. "Have a seat, Captain." They ended up across from each other, neither saying anything nor quite meeting the other's eyes.

Jack couldn't seem to bare the silence any longer. "I really didn't mean to bring that up, Doc, it's just—where've you been? I saw you that last time, and then—" the Captain let out an almost bitter laugh. "Nothing. Martha and Mickey have been kind of freaking out ever since."

He had to wince at that. "I regenerated, Jack."

"Yeah, I can see that," the Captain nodded toward him, and he felt a little sheepish at his rather obvious statement.

"Well, I suppose I was just worried. It- it seems silly now, but—that last time, I was asleep…but I could hear her crying, saying I'd left her." He really wasn't looking at Jack anymore, just staring at his hands folded together on the tabletop. "And, I was just afraid," he said simply, risking taking a peek up at the Captain from beneath his fringe.

"Yeah, but this would be different, Doctor. I mean, Martha, Mickey, and I know about regeneration, we're not going to think you're gone or something," he pointed out reasonably, and the Doctor sighed.

"I know, Jack. It wasn't any of you that were the problem. I suppose the real problem was me." The immortal man raised an eyebrow, and so he continued. "In a way, for all I talked about the Time Lords and Gallifrey, I really was trying so very hard to be human, Jack. I wanted- well, I'm not even sure, but I didn't want to feel so alone. I didn't want to be seen as odd. I worked so very hard to convince myself I could really be like you. Do you know how long I was in that body, Jack?"

The Captain shrugged, and he smiled ruefully.

"A few years. A few years, absolutely pitiful for a Time Lord, really—but I was trying so hard to live like one of you humans. To the point where I detested the idea of regeneration. I never wanted to be this," he waved his arm up and down himself with a laugh. "I came to think of the next body I would have as a separate entity, something not me—the real alien. And now that I am- now that I exist, I guess it would feel like I was stealing _his_ friends."

"I hadn't really thought of that, Doctor. I'm not really sure what to tell you. I die all the time, but I'm always the same." The Doctor nodded in acknowledgement. "But, when I first saw that new body on Utopia with Martha, it wasn't just the TARDIS that gave away who you were. You're just you, Doc, and we can accept that."

"Yes, I should give you more credit," he admitted. "It's just easier—with the Ponds, I mean. I met Amy when she was seven and now she's grown up and I'm still just me. I suppose this body's all about being odd and alien."

"And how do you like living with Amy and Rory?" The Captain seemed genuinely interested, and rightly so; even the Doctor never saw something like this coming. He considered the question, wanting to get his thoughts out right since that had been proven to be difficult for him in the past.

"Well it was hard to adjust. In fact, I might still be adjusting." At Jack's grin, he knew his amendment had hit closer to the truth. "And it can be really very slow at times. But, it doesn't seem so slow with them."

"I know what you mean…they age fast, Doc." Jack leaned forward, a look of concern on his face as he lowered his voice. "I get that seeing us would have been painful, Doctor. Not everyone stays the same like I do. But I can't help thinking you're just setting yourself up all over again—they won't be with you forever."

"I won't leave them," he was leaning in too, his voice practically a low growl. Maybe the Captain was only looking out for him, but he didn't understand. "I _can't_."

"It'd be better for you. Why not?"

"They're different."

"So you say, Doctor, but—"

"They're _family_, Jack!"

The immortal man's eyes had gone wide, but before he could say anymore—

"Alright, well, here's dinner." Amy had entered carrying a steaming dish, blissfully unaware of the serious turn their conversation had taken. He and Jack only exchanged a glance, and that was enough to decide- it was over for now.

"Really, Pond, I could've helped," he insisted as Rory came in with what looked like the vegetables, adding just a touch more childishness to his voice, and she rolled her eyes.

"No way, I am not letting you near food with an open flame," the redhead shook her head emphatically.

"But I can cook! Really, Jack, twelve-hundred years and she thinks I don't know my way around a kitchen."

The Captain joined right in. "I don't know, Doc. I've been around a couple centuries now, and I still don't trust my own cooking. Thanks very much, Amy," he grinned and began to serve himself.

"Wait, so you're actually immortal?" Rory inquired, obviously having had some skepticism beforehand.

"I am," he nodded.

"So what's an immortal man doing in twenty-first century England?" Amy asked, with a bemused expression.

"Well, that's quite the story," Jack told the two, "But right now, I'm heading up Torchwood."

"Torchwood?" Rory repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't know what Torchwood is?" The Captain asked in surprise. When the Ponds shook their heads, he turned to the Doctor. "You never even mentioned Torchwood?"

"I thought it was supposed to be a secret organization," he replied, before returning to his meal.

Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that was definitely your reasoning, Doctor. He really does like his secrets, doesn't he?" The Captain addressed the question to the Ponds.

"He does," Amy agreed rather quickly.

"But why don't you tell us more about Torchwood?" Rory added, and the Doctor couldn't help but smile as Jack launched into an explanation. If anyone understood his aversion toward reliving the past, it was Rory the Roman.

OoO

Overall, Amy felt dinner had rather been a success. It was the Doctor's turn for the dishes, since he'd insisted on helping with the chores when he'd moved in. So the alien stuck his hand out for the Captain to shake.

"Until next time then, Jack."

Jack took the Doctor's hand, shook it, and then yanked him forward into a hug. When the Doctor made a sort of, "Oof!" sound upon colliding with the immortal man's chest, Jack laughed.

"Now you realize you can't get rid of me, Doc."

"Not even if I tried," she barely heard the muttered reply, but the smile on the Captain's face grew even wider as he pulled back and snapped a salute. "Oh, really Jack?" The Doctor grimaced at the military gesture, but raised his hand to his forehead anyway.

Amy then led their guest down the hall to the front door. "It was really nice to meet you, Jack," she told him, truly meaning it. She'd always wanted to get to know one of the Doctor's friends, not the famous ones like Winston Churchill or the like, but the ones he never talked about.

"Well, I'm just glad to see him smiling again. Boy, that last time had me worried," Jack shook his head, but when he looked at her again his eyes were serious. "Amy, you and Rory really care about the Doctor, right?"

"Well, of course," she replied, not even needing to think about it.

"Cause he thinks about you as family," the man continued, and she felt a sort of warmth bloom in her chest. The Doctor had really said that?

"I should hope so," she said, but was rather confused by Jack's frown.

"I'm not so sure it's a good thing. He's fragile, the Doctor, and he's always close to his companions. But I've _never_ heard him actually call them family before. You and Rory aren't always going to be around, you know? I know it's hard to hear," he said, for she'd turned her face a little away from him. "But you can't run around the universe with him forever."

As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew Jack was right. Hadn't she even had thoughts recently about stopping travelling? "What are you trying to say, Jack?"

"Only that I'm worried this arrangement might not be best for him," he replied, gesturing around to encompass the house. "We're his friends, Amy, we travel with him, but we can't ever let him get too attached. Because somebody else has to pick up the pieces once we've gone. I'm afraid you and Rory are going to leave the next person an impossible task."

"Well, we're not giving him up if that's what you want," she informed him firmly. How would making him leave now be any better?

Jack gave a wry smile. "I didn't think so. Just think about what I said, will you?" She nodded somewhat grudgingly, and he stepped out the door onto the pavement. "Thanks again for the dinner."

"You're welcome," she said, before closing the door and leaning against it. She stood there awhile, before taking a breath and heading back down the hall. Amy found the Doctor drying his hands with a dish towel. His jacket had been discarded on the back of a chair and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, as if he was doing maintenance on the TARDIS. But he wasn't, he was _here_ in their house doing the washing up like it was the most normal thing in the world. And she didn't know how to feel about that anymore.

"There you are, Amy, I—oh!" He'd turned in her direction just before she'd wrapped her arms around him, and now the Time Lord's arms hung loosely in the air, likely wondering what he'd done to get this sort of reaction out of her. Finally, he decided to return her embrace as he said in puzzlement, "They're only dishes, Pond."

He didn't feel fragile under her touch, and yet Amy knew that whenever this was over- however it ended –she'd have Rory there with her. Who would the Doctor have?

But it wasn't over yet, and though it was likely one of the most selfish things she'd ever done, Amy asked in a wavering voice, "You know Rory and I love you, don't you Doctor?"

"Of course I do, Amy. Just as I love you both." She felt both comforted and wretched at his reassurance. Because she and Rory, they'd broken the unspoken rule of companions. The Ponds had let the Doctor get attached.

**I don't know why I seem incapable of fun ones anymore. But I hope the beginning was a little amusing. So yeah, a chapter with Captain Jack! I felt sort of bad for the super long wait, so I made it especially long. I also wanted to touch a bit on some issues the Christmas Special is going to have to address. How will the Doctor cope with the Ponds being gone, and how will Clara help him. It looks like it's going to be good, and I'm excited to see the introduction of the new companion. But that doesn't mean I'll stop writing this, so I look forward to hearing your feedback and suggestions! Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Time to update again, and as a reward to those of you who might be reading my other story "For Just One Cell", I am going to do my absolute best to make this chapter not sad. So, now for something that many of you have been requesting since chapter one! Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Eight**

"How can you stand it, Ponds?" The Doctor groaned, flopping bonelessly onto a couch in the sitting room. Yes, he knew it was childish, and yes, he knew he had promised he wouldn't be like this, but could they honestly expect so much of him?

"It's rain, Doctor. You sort of learn to live with it," Rory answered simply. He should have seen that coming.

"It's not the rain that's the problem," he clarified with a frustrated sigh. "It's the sitting around, no-going-out law your wife has enacted!"

"Oi, no need to get snappy," Amy chided from her seat on the sofa. "It's for your own good health. I will not have a sopping, sniffling Time Lord dripping all over my carpet. And you've spent whole days in the house before."

"Yes, because I wanted to, Pond, not because the elements were conspiring against me! There's a difference," he insisted petulantly.

"Sounds like you're just being stubborn to me," she replied, and he nearly wanted to rip his hair out. Didn't they understand he was trying—really trying for once? That something so easy for them was practically impossible for him? If the Doctor didn't want to be somewhere, that usually wasn't an issue- he would merely get in the TARDIS and leave. It was perhaps a spoiled lifestyle, but nevertheless it was a lifestyle he had grown accustomed to over a millennium. To break such an ingrained habit was tasking.

The Doctor could also tell that he was impairing Amy's ability to get her work done by bothering her when Rory wasn't around. But he just didn't do well sitting around on his own. That's why he travelled, after all, to keep his mind off that ever-present loneliness that followed him everywhere. When he'd first begun taking Amy and Rory with him on trips, it had been enough to just go on the day's adventure and then leave them be until the next one if they wanted. But it was as if the longer he knew them, the less and less he could bear to be parted from them.

He was acutely aware as well that the Ponds just didn't see; an afternoon spent indoors was an afternoon to them, but it dragged on and yet flew by in wasted time. Rory always had to go to work, and of course on one of the few days they were all home together it just had to rain.

"Why don't you just do something quiet and productive?" Rory suggested, though his tone conveyed his disbelief that it would work.

"Like reading a book," Amy added, squinting at her own novel.

"I read all the books in your library my first night here."

"How—" Rory started.

"Time Lord," Amy huffed in answer for him, shifting in her seat to hold the book under a lamp. "Well just find something to distract yourself with—something mindless."

"Mindless!" He exclaimed, aghast, and actually sat bolt upright on the couch to gape at her. "Amy, I do nothing _but_ use my mind! How could I even think- let alone manage –to turn it off?"

She looked about to fire off a retort, but Rory spoke first. "Well, I'm not sure how effective it might be, but you could try what everybody else does."

"What's that?" He asked, half-curious and half-apprehensive. While this certainly sounded interesting, it also seemed ominous. And if the nurse even mentioned Twitter, he was running back to the sanctuary of his beloved box, downpour or not.

"Video games." He assumed he must have gotten a rather blank look on his face, for Rory raised his eyebrows. "Seriously, you don't know video games?"

"Well, you can't expect me to be familiar with everything," he defended. "It's a big universe."

He watched his friend go over to the television set, the one that had puzzled him since his arrival. Not the television itself, he understood those perfectly well- the Doctor wasn't that alien. But it had far too many boxes. There was one that had the customary controls for fiddling with the volume or the channel, but then there were others that seemed to be for disks or a strange cube-machine he'd originally been startled by, thinking perhaps he'd found the mastermind behind the Slow Invasion. But then Amy had rolled her eyes and muttered something about Rory's "stupid old GameCube" and for him not to worry about it. It had been a disappointing setback at the time, and now he felt maybe he _should_ have worried about it. After all, it had been sitting in this house with him the entire time he'd been here.

Alas, it seemed he wouldn't solve the mystery of the "game cube" today, for Rory instead pressed a button on a pure white device that seemed to be standing up on its side compared to the other rectangular prisms arranged around their television. He then hit the power button on the television, and the screen lit up. But instead of some sort of program coming on, it appeared to be displaying a menu of some type.

"What is it?"

"Our Wii," the nurse answered, seeming to be observing him. The Doctor furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Your what?" What was a 'whee' and why would they own one?

"It's a gaming system. You know, instead of playing a game with actual physical…stuff," Rory said, struggling with explaining it.

"So it's a game that you play on a screen? With a remote?" He guessed, slowly standing and joining the other man.

"Yep," Rory nodded and took up what he supposed was the remote to this strange contraption. "We don't have a lot of games, but you can pick a sport. There's bowling and tennis and—"

"How do you play a sport on a screen? Why not just go outside?" He couldn't help but ask, thoroughly stumped by this new discovery. It hardly seemed that inventive, playing a game with a little remote thing that could easily be done with the actual equipment. "And what about the other people?"

"Well, if you're by yourself and it's rainy out, this is kind of the solution," Rory responded, and he could see the nurse was starting to get impatient. Well, he didn't mean to upset him.

To try and appease the Roman, the Doctor said, "Tennis." Rory nodded and started using the remote to select things. He almost stopped himself from asking the next question, but it left his lips before anything could be done about it. "Who is that tiny person on the screen?"

"Oh, it's me," Rory said, and he looked back and forth between the Rory before him and the Rory on the screen.

"That's you? How are you doing that- you're in your television—"

"No, no, Doctor, I mean it's like an avatar. They're called Miis and you can sort of make them look like you."

"But if it looks like you, why would I call it 'me'?"

"No, you're not calling it yourself, that's just the title. It- it doesn't have to do with who's actually playing it or anything. But you can name it after yourself and pick an appearance."

"Do they come with bowties? Or maybe a fez?" He asked hopefully.

"No," the nurse replied flatly.

"Oh."

"Look, just take the controller," he placed the strange, bulky thing in his hand, and the Doctor frowned down at it. "Ok, the 'A' button is the most important, you sort of use that to select things and stuff. The 'B' button in the back is kind of important too, though."

"Where's that?" He turned the thing over in his hands a couple times, trying to get used to it. He supposed it was helpful that these 'A' and 'B' buttons were labeled, at least. Rory kept trying to get him to hold it the proper way so he could start.

"Oh, and there's also a bit of movement," the nurse added belatedly as some sort of countdown started on the screen.

"Movement?" He repeated incredulously.

"Rory, are you sure this is a good idea?" Amy finally inquired from her same position on the sofa. She was watching him with a sort of frown on her face, the kind she often wore when she took him out anywhere for groceries or the like.

"Well, you want him to do something besides mope around. And video games are about as mindless as they get," her husband replied.

"It can't be that bad, Pond, I'll do fine," he reassured.

"Well, you missed the first serve," Rory pointed out, and he was surprised to see a sort of scoreboard in one of the upper corners, which did appear to be saying the other little person on the screen was winning.

"What? Well, how was that fair, we didn't even establish who was serving first," he complained, looking to his friend for answers.

"You don't establish- Doctor, you're not playing another person, it's a computer."

"I have to beat a computer?" He demanded.

"They make it easy," Rory reasoned.

"Easy?" He scoffed, "Computers aren't designed to lose, Rory- and it just scored another point."

"Well of course it did," Amy wasn't trying very hard to hide her laughter, and he tugged at his jacket in discomfort as she snickered at him. "You aren't doing anything. You got to try and hit the ball."

"How?"

"With the remote, it's your racket," Rory said.

"No it isn't, it's a remote."

"Yes, and it's also your racket," the nurse ground out.

"But it's a remote. Wouldn't it break if I tried to hit a ball with it?" He wasn't sure why Rory let out an aggravated groan and stomped over to the couch, but he had to assume it had to do with something he had said. Now if he could just figure out what.

"That's it, I give up. Forget the video games Doctor, we can just find some coloring books to do or something," the nurse grumbled, but the Doctor puffed up a bit indignantly. Coloring books!

"No, I want to learn." Rory looked pleadingly at his wife, and Amy sighed.

"I knew this was a bad idea," she pointed out, but set her book down and came to stand next to him. "Ok, so obviously trying to explain it like you're a normal person doesn't work," the redhead mused. He waited, tossing the remote back and forth between his hands now that he was more used to the weight of it. Her eyes followed its movement for a while before she finally grinned. "Got it! Ok, so, Doctor, don't think of the remote like it's a remote," she started.

"Alright," he said slowly, glancing back at Rory in puzzlement, but the other man simply shrugged.

"Pretend the remote is the sonic, and that the tennis ball on the screen is some sort of weird alien thing coming to destroy our sitting room. The only way you can stop it is by sort of swinging the sonic out like you're going to hit it, and then pressing that button that makes it go all glowy, and that sends it back over the net."

His face scrunched up as he reminded her, "Amy, I can't hit things away with a sonic screwdriver—"

"Pretend you can, Raggedy Man," she ordered with narrowing eyes, apparently not wanting the holes in her explanation pointed out.

"Well, alright then," he said at last, looking away from her and back at the screen where the countdown had started again. The Doctor watched carefully as the little computer-person served the tiny tennis ball and just as it sailed toward him he swung the white controller, pressing the 'A' button at the same time. In amazement, he then watched it fly back to the little computer-person. "Oh! It worked! Amy, I did it!"

"That's nice, Doctor," he heard her call vaguely from another room.

"And then it's just like real tennis?"

"Yep." It might have been Amy, it might have been Rory, but the Doctor was busy concentrating as the computer-person had made a rather impressive swing, sending the ball back to his side.

"Interesting."

OoO

Rory was on his way to the kitchen the next morning when Amy stuck her head out of the bathroom, hairbrush in hand. "Could you look for the Doctor? I peeked in his room, but he wasn't there, and I really didn't want to see what he got up to instead of sleeping."

He sighed, but was feeling sympathetic and said, "Sure." It really wasn't that difficult a task. All he had to do was continue on his way and make a quick stop in the sitting room. The sight that met him froze him in his tracks.

The alien had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, his bowtie was askew, and his hair a bit messier than usual. But one thing hadn't changed from the previous afternoon- he was still holding the Wii controller in his hand and swinging it at the screen to hit the tennis ball. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but the Doctor won another two sets without noticing him. It was only when Amy joined him in the archway that Rory was able to snap out of his stupor.

"I found him," he said rather unnecessarily.

His wife watched their friend for a much shorter time than him before saying, "Doctor?"

The Time Lord jumped, casting a quick glance behind him and then returning his focus to the television. "Oh, hello Pond. What have you been up to?"

"Sleeping," she responded simply. "It's morning."

"Is it? I hadn't noticed. Had a good rest, then?"

"Yeah, but what have you been doing if you didn't sleep?"

"Playing tennis."

Amy and Rory shared semi-concerned glances. He decided to try asking, "What else?"

"Nothing else." It was as if there was nothing wrong with that statement. Amy soon debunked that idea, however.

"Doctor, you have been playing that game for over twelve hours!"

"Yes, I suppose I have," he agreed absently. "I also apparently beat your high score, Rory."

"Oh, that's alright—"

"Three-hundred and eighty-six times."

"Oh," he said again, feeling slightly disappointed, but mostly astounded.

"Sorry, got a bit carried away."

"Yes, you have," Amy decided firmly, and the redheaded woman marched over to the television and hit the power buttons on it and the Wii, making the screen go black. When the Doctor gave an exclamation of surprise and almost irritation, she merely held her hand out for the controller. "That is enough video games for you, Raggedy Man. No more Wii tennis for a week."

"What? But- you can't- what do you—is- is this grounding? Are you _grounding_ me, Pond?"

Rory had to wonder the same thing. "Can we even do that?" Sure, the Doctor was living under their roof, but he was their friend. And he was pretty sure friends didn't ground friends. Of course, Rory had never grounded anybody.

"If we have to," his wife boldly declared. "What's the point of being his in-laws if we have no authority, anyway?"

"Um, I think the point of being his in-laws is that he's married to our daughter," Rory couldn't help reminding her.

"Details," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. The Doctor had been watching their back-and-forth exchange silently until he blinked and raised one hand to rub at eyes bloodshot from staring at a screen for so long.

"Oh Ponds. What am I doing? How—" he dropped the controller into Amy's still-waiting hand before actually staggering back from the television. "How did that happen- did I really do that for twelve hours?" The Time Lord dropped onto the couch as though he couldn't hold himself up anymore; he was in so much disbelief. Amy and Rory looked at each other again, before joining him on either side, Amy placing the Wii controller back first. "I didn't even realize. These video games really are mindless."

"That's the point of them," Amy said, patting his shoulder in comfort. "You don't have to feel bad just cause you got sucked in, it happens to everyone."

"But everyone doesn't play it for twelve hours, do they?" The alien pointed out astutely and she had no reply. "It was just so addicting."

"Well, not that it's my field, but if I had to diagnose you I would say you have a bit of an addictive personality," Rory reasoned, and both Amy and the Doctor turned to look at him curiously.

"What do you mean?" Their friend asked.

"Well, I mean, you just sort of do things- but to the extreme, you know? Or how you have those things you never want to give up- like the hats and the bowties and things. You're definitely an adrenaline junkie," he explained, stopping as the Doctor stared at him in wonder. "What?"

"I am?" The Time Lord asked softly, before his mouth fell open and he looked away. "I _am_, aren't I? I never even thought about it- but I really am an addict."

"Well, it's not so bad," Rory hastened to add, especially since Amy was frowning in disapproval at him for causing this latest bout of Doctor Depression. "There's nothing wrong about being really into something."

"Yes, but what I'm really into is people. And that's what makes me really sorry about this video game thing—Amy, Rory, I should be spending time with you, not on digitalized sport." He looked at each of them completely ashamed.

"We're not mad," Amy told him. "Sometimes we're going to be too busy to do something or it's going to rain- you can play Wii tennis then."

"It's really my fault anyway, I showed it to you," Rory reminded. Their words seemed to work, for their friend was no longer frowning and his shoulders were not slumped anymore.

"So how about you get cleaned up and we can have breakfast, and then we'll go on a walk together or something with no video games," Amy suggested, grinning as she added, "It did stop raining."

"It did, didn't it?" The Doctor perked up, leaping to his feet to check out their window. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Pond!"

"Fine by me," Rory agreed, smiling a little as well, before a thought occurred to him. "Why don't we just pack some food? We could eat outside- a picnic." For a moment, he worried it was the wrong thing to say, seeing as their last picnic had not gone so well. But neither Amy nor the Doctor got angry with him for inadvertently bringing that up.

"Brilliant suggestion, Rory!" The Doctor praised, halfway out of the sitting room. "I won't be long, you two can choose what to take."

"I think we still have some fish fingers and custard," Rory mused. One benefit to them all living in their house was that things were no longer going bad in the refrigerator. "And Amy still needs to try it."

"I do not," she shook her head, stubbornly crossing her arms. Rory and the Doctor shared a glance.

"Yes she does."

"Yeah, she does."

**So there you go, happy fluff. Hope it was cute and funny enough for you. There is a huge technical reason I wrote the first section from the Doctor's POV—just as he was unfamiliar with video games, I am unfamiliar with video games. I do not own a Wii or any other gaming system, so if something was wrong, I apologize, but there's not much I can do to fix it. Hopefully, it didn't impede your enjoyment of the chapter, and as always thanks for reading and please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the long wait guys, but thanks so much for the reviews! I never thought this would become so popular. Anyway, up next is a request made by both Sin respuestas and InvisibleBlade, so it's got to be good writing material. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Nine**

He was running, faster than he ever had before. Because there wasn't that awful temptation to look back this time, like all the other times. No, he was looking forward. He was running _to_ them.

The Ponds, just out of reach. It seemed the more distance he covered, the further they were from him, like their time stream was moving along faster than his.

And it was, really, wasn't it?

As he gasped for breath, his footfalls sounding like thunder in the otherwise silence, they aged before him. Rory hunched over a walking stick, silver-white tufts of hair thinning around his lined face. Amy's hair faded from that fiery red to dull gray, little glasses set over her squinting eyes…his little Amelia.

But he didn't care, he didn't care how they looked, how much they aged—he'd stay this time, he wouldn't run, just _please_—

And suddenly he was upon them. Yet before he could even close his arms around either one- a cliff, a ledge, it didn't matter –they tumbled over the edge, falling into blackness.

A cold, unyielding hand closed over his shoulder, stopping him from following.

"_Ponds_!"

"Doctor. Doctor!" The hand on his shoulder wasn't so cold, wasn't so unyielding anymore, and it was shaking him. His eyes snapped open to find himself tangled in bed sheets with a near-frightened looking Pond standing on either side. Rory's hair was sticking up in tufts, but the kind caused by sleep, and they were their usual darker color. Amy's ginger curls tumbled down her shoulders, clothed in her nightie, though she'd forgotten her slippers.

"Ponds!" He repeated breathlessly, his chest heaving. They were here. With him. In his room. In their house. Just a dream, then, that was all. "Oh. Good. Yes, um…sorry, was I bothering you?"

"A bit," Rory answered before Amy elbowed him in the ribs.

"You're just sore cause I took out the earplugs," she told the nurse, and then looked down at him again. "We don't mind. You ok?"

"Oh, of course," he answered, his breathing under control at last. He wasn't sure he liked the dubious looks the married pair gave each other at that, and so he propped himself up against the headboard. "Nothing to worry about, must not be my day to sleep. You two go on, I'll just find something else to do."

"Oh no you don't," Amy shook her head. "You haven't slept for days."

"Well I just have, so I should be fine," he argued, starting to unwind the sheets from around his legs.

"You don't get much sleep if you're having a nightmare," Rory pointed out, and he winced. "Do you want to talk about it? It might help."

Unbidden, the image of them falling away from him rose to the front of his mind. "No, no, I'd rather not, Rory. It was silly anyway, and—"

He snapped his mouth shut when Amy plopped onto the bed beside him. "Nightmares aren't silly, Doctor, and we're not just going to leave you alone. So what can we do?"

"Do?" He echoed, uncomprehending. He couldn't seem to grasp what they were asking. This was an entirely new situation for him; if he had a nightmare on the TARDIS when companions were aboard, the walls were designed to simply keep the sound in. Then he'd usually just make his way to the control room or the library to find something to do, drinking tea to stay awake.

"Well, sure," Rory answered, settling down as well. "Didn't anybody ever take care of you when you couldn't sleep?"

He froze, his mind going back to days so far and long ago, back when he wasn't the Doctor and the monsters were something he'd only read about in a book and nobody died, not ever. But that was getting into the dangerous, unknown territory of Things He Didn't Talk About Anymore.

"Well, I- I don't…" he trailed off, his voice not seeming to want to work. Rory thankfully took pity on him.

"My dad used to read to me. I think we've got a book of fairytales, don't we, Amy?"

"There's some in the TARDIS," he muttered.

"Alright, I'll go look," she offered, "I think our book is on the shelf, Rory."

They both stood and left, but with every intention of coming back. And that did more than anything so far tonight to warm his hearts.

OoO

"Ok, girl, I need a book of fairytales," she announced upon entering the TARDIS's library. There was an answering hum and the lights went up on one particular shelf. "Thanks."

When she'd awoken to hear his screaming, Amy had been terrified. That was most of the reason why she'd shaken Rory awake. Because what could so badly frighten the Doctor?

She would be fooling herself if she didn't admit that it had something to do with them. The Time Lord's cry of his name for them was proof enough of that. So, feeling guilty for having any part in tormenting his sleep and wanting to comfort him, she was now searching the shelves of their friend's extensive library.

"Gallifreyan Classics," she read aloud to herself, before frowning in puzzlement. "I thought you didn't translate Gallifreyan." The TARDIS hummed again, and Amy realized- she wanted to help, too. "Thanks," she said again, patting the wall of the ship.

Of course when she returned, she found her boys in a rather heated argument.

"He ate her and put on her clothes? That's _terrible_, Rory, how am I supposed to sleep now?"

"It's part of the story, Doctor, but she doesn't die."

"How?"

"He swallowed her, he didn't eat her."

"He's a wolf, Rory. Wolves can't do that!"

Rory sighed, a bit impatiently. "Well, this one can, I guess. Look, can I just finish reading the—"

"No, that just can't happen. She'd never fit! Look at that picture, Rory, and tell me a wolf could swallow a whole grandmother in one go." The alien pointed emphatically at the illustration, and her husband struggled to come up with an answer.

"It's not to scale- I mean, you can't just- ok, you're right, but—"

"Then she's dead! That poor little girl is going to get to that house and find a wolf lying in her grandmother's bed in her clothes." He looked close to tears thinking of Little Red Riding Hood.

"Actually, she thinks it's her grandmother at first."

"What?"

"I know, I never got that bit either," the nurse confessed.

"Who mistakes their own grandmother for a ginormous grandmother-eating wolf? That's- that's just an insult to grandmothers everywhere!"

"Ok," Amy said, drawing out the word until they looked up at her. "I think this proves Earth stories just aren't going to work."

"Yes," the other two said at the same time, and she sat back down.

"Good thing I found this, then," she continued, waving the book she had brought. "So, let's have a look." Flipping through pages, she glanced at titles. "_Snow White and the Seven Keys to Doomsday_?"

"That's a good one," he nodded, but she wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"It's a rip-off."

"What?"

"Hello? _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves_. It's probably the exact same thing with some words switched out."

"Why didn't they just keep the original?" Rory asked.

"How many times do I have to say it: Time Lords came first. Your version's the rip-off," the Doctor scoffed. "And how did you get dwarves from keys? If it was _The Three Little Sontarans_ then I'd understand, but—"

"Ok, we're not reading any of the ones that sound like ours," she decided, and kept thumbing through the book while he pouted. "How about _The Pandorica_?" She asked with a smirk.

He sighed. "It sort of takes the fun out of it when you realize you're the villain, Pond."

"Oh, right. Sorry," she apologized, turning more pages. "_The Shakri._"

"No, not that one, you don't want that one," he dismissed, taking the book and flipping through himself.

"Well, we can't seem to agree on a bedtime story," her husband observed.

"You appear to be correct," the Doctor concurred, snapping the book shut. "Sorry for wasting your time. Back to bed with you, Ponds."

He wasn't getting away that easy. All she needed was one stupid fairytale…a fairytale.

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl," she started. Rory turned to her with a raised eyebrow, and the Doctor tilted his head in curiosity. But she just kept talking. "She lived all alone in a big house with too many rooms, and she thought it was stupid because it wasn't Scotland, and there was a scary crack in her bedroom wall."

"Amy…" the Time Lord said softly, but she put a finger to her lips, indicating he should be quiet.

"But one night, she heard a loud noise in her front yard. A strange box had crashed on her garden shed. And out of the box climbed a raggedy man, the strangest most impossible man she'd ever met."

"Or would ever meet," Rory murmured, and she made a face at him.

"He said he was called the Doctor, and after she fed him some fish fingers and custard, he went to have a look at the crack in the wall. The Doctor fixed it, but then his strange magic box was malfunctioning, so he jumped in and left, promising he'd come back in five minutes. So she waited."

The Doctor had that sad, big watery-eyed look on his face. But it was part of the story.

"He didn't come back, not for a very long time. But it wasn't all bad. The little girl grew up and made two very good friends, and fell in love with one of them." Rory reached out and took her hand, and she smiled at him.

"Then the Doctor reappeared. The scary aliens from the crack in her wall had come back, and so she and her boyfriend helped him defeat them. The Doctor left again, and he was gone for two more years. On the night before her wedding, he came back and offered to show her the stars. She said yes."

He was smiling again, and she placed her other hand in one of his.

"And they had lots of fun adventures together, and her fiancé. There were starwhales to save and people to rescue and true love. And always, always running. And she had everything she could ever ask for."

She fell silent and it was about a minute before Rory asked, "Aren't you supposed to say 'The End'?"

"Who says it's over?" Amy replied, and he grinned right back at her. It was the Doctor yawning that drew their attention back to him.

"I think I might be able sleep now." He settled back under the covers. "Thank you, Amy. That's my favorite story."

She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. "It's my favorite, too." She stood up and Rory turned out the lights. The Ponds went back to their own bedroom.

And everyone slept soundly the rest of the night.

**Huzzah for another fluffy one! I seem to remember how to write those now. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, thanks for reading and please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Is this chapter ten already? Wow, I both feel like I've written more than this and hardly written this much at all. It's been interesting, to say the least. At any rate, this is a chapter I've been sort-of planning on writing for a while, so I'm sorry if it doesn't address a specific request. I will be getting back to those next chapter. Anyway, on with the fic!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Ten**

She'd slept so soundly the night before, Amy felt nothing could spoil her good mood this morning. Not if she found the Doctor on the Wii again, not if he'd turned their house into a Cube Labyrinth, not even if he'd brought the Ood back to visit. Fortunately, when she did wake up, none of those things had happened.

She should have known it wouldn't be him that would cause her grief today. Life just did that to her.

Amy was lazing about on the sofa. Rory had left for work after making breakfast. The Doctor had been quite put out when she had allowed her husband to cook, and so was sulking on the couch next to her with his arms crossed.

The relative peace of the morning was shattered by their doorbell. They turned to each other with questioning looks. After all, while it was her and Rory's house, the last unexpected visitor they'd had had been for the Doctor. Even so, she felt it best that he not answer the door. With a sigh, Amy entered the front hall as the shrill tone of the bell sounded again.

"Alright, alright," she grumbled under her breath. But her sour expression wasn't likely to scare away who was at the door. "Angela! Patricia! What a- er –surprise."

"Good morning, Amy," Patricia Crawley said sweetly. The Crawleys lived next door to Angela Langley and her family and right across the street from the Pond residence. It was the one about the house the Doctor had given them that wasn't perfect.

She didn't find Angela or Patricia to be mean. Oh no, quite the opposite—they were very nice. _Too_ nice. Nice to the point of it making her sick. And it was as if they existed to be nothing but neighbors. When it was nice out, the two could be seen calling over the fence to each other while they gardened, she always saw one or both when she went to the shops, and they took turns hosting the neighborhood Christmas party. And they always, always had their children with them. Why on Earth they were on her doorstep at this moment, she had no clue.

"Morning?" Angela was laughing a little, "It's nearly afternoon!"

"Right," she agreed, not entirely sure what else to say. Amy then managed to paste a polite smile on her face. "Well, come in. I suppose you both already ate—but I think we've got crackers or pretzels if David or Ellie want something." The little boy in Angela's arms hardly understood, but Ellie Crawley stopped hiding behind her mother's legs as much.

"Oh, no thank you," Patricia said, shaking her head at her daughter when she tugged at her skirt, her brown tresses swaying back and forth. "I don't want to ruin her appetite."

"Ah, I see," Amy replied, nodding along to the other woman's words and doing her best not to notice the girl's disappointed face. "Well then, what brings you here?"

When the two exchanged a glance, she knew that had been a bit too blunt, but Amy was quickly becoming impatient. And they hadn't even reached the end of the hall. That didn't bode well.

"Well, I was just saying to Patricia the other day, 'You know who we haven't talked to in ages? Amy Williams,'" Angela explained with a large smile, all straight, white teeth and pale, pink glossy lips.

"Yes, and it's been quite some time, and we're all a little curious, yet you haven't introduced that guest of yours to anyone aside from Angela, and that was by chance," Patricia added, turning a little pink and looking away when the other woman frowned ever so slightly to indicate that had been less than sensitive.

"We just thought we ought to welcome him since he seems to be staying a while. We don't want to appear rude, after all," the honey-blonde woman recovered for her friend.

"Oh," was all Amy could say. She hadn't even thought of it before, but they had sort of been doing that. Her and Rory, hiding the Doctor away. Even the few times he had interacted with the people they knew, like at their wedding or anniversary, they'd done their best to keep him isolated- not that he didn't do a good enough job of that already –to keep their lives separate. They just couldn't help it.

How could the imaginary friend of a fantasy world survive real life?

By using Rule One.

"Er, John?" She called uncertainly, quite sure this was going to be awkward and very hard to explain. But she'd never really appreciated his acting skills before.

"Yes, Amy?" The Doctor emerged from the sitting room, not wearing something ridiculous on his head, not wielding their eggbeater or something else, and looking- aside from the bowtie –like an average man. His eyes lit upon their guests. "Oh, hello—Angela, wasn't it?" He joined them and waited for her to adjust her hold on the child in her arms in order to shake her hand. "And there's little David. Hello," the alien held out his finger for the infant to hold as David giggled and babbled in response. Perhaps he was saying hello back- she could never quite tell if the Time Lord had been serious about speaking baby.

"Yes, Angela Langely," the woman was saying, but though he nodded he wasn't really paying attention. Instead, he smiled down at the little girl who, fascinated as all children were by his warm, open voice and expression, had once more poked her head out from behind Patricia.

"And who might you be?" He asked, crouching down so that he was directly before her.

"I'm Ellie," the child said, smiling shyly. Somehow, his own grin grew bigger.

"Ellie! Well that's a wonderful name." Amy had to smile, unable to help recalling when he'd said nearly the same thing to her all those years ago. Yet it did not sound any less sincere.

"Say thank you to the nice man, Ellie," the girl's mother prompted in a hushed near-whisper, the silly smile on her face quite clearly showing she was just as charmed by the Doctor as her daughter.

"Thank you," Ellie repeated dutifully, and he fondly tapped her on the nose before standing up to shake Patricia's waiting hand.

"John Smith," he greeted.

"Oh yes- Angela mentioned. I'm Patricia Crawley. My house is right across from Amy," the woman introduced.

"Is it?" He inquired just as any polite person might, and the whole group continued into the sitting room.

"Yes, it's simply appalling we haven't met yet, seeing as you've been visiting with the Williams for- how long, exactly?" The Doctor blinked, and she could see him backtracking through the days in his head, but Angela interrupted with a question of her own.

"What is it that you do for a living, Mr. Smith, that they give you so much time off?"

Her friend still looked thrown by the first question, and so Amy did her best to answer for him. "John, um, does a lot with- er, negotiations." When he raised an eyebrow at her with a bewildered look, she turned away to solely address the two women. "And when people- I mean, companies don't need him, he travels. But this time he's staying a bit closer to home."

"That sounds exciting," the blonde commented lightly from her position settled on the couch with Patricia, Ellie fidgeting in between.

"Oh, it is," he assured. "Would either of you ladies like something to drink? Tea, coffee?"

"Tea is fine," Angela said for both of them, and the alien retreated to the kitchen.

"Quite a gentleman," Patricia remarked in obvious approval.

"Yes," her other neighbor agreed, "Did he and Rory stay in touch after you moved from Leadworth?"

"Yes, but John's both Rory and my friend," Amy corrected, "Actually, I met him first." The two women shared another look, and she tried to distract herself with something else to do besides rolling her eyes. "Ellie, I'm not sure how much we have in the way of toys, but I'm sure we have some old picture books." The little girl, who had been swinging her legs back and forth in pure boredom, hopped off the couch and followed her eagerly to the shelf. "Ok, what sort of books do you like? Adventure?"

"I like princesses," she told her. Amy smiled.

"I like princesses, too. And I know just the book," she selected Rory's old book of fairytales that the Doctor had rejected the night before, relatively sure that the human child would have no such issues. As expected, Ellie settled down on the floor and began to flip through the pages, studying each picture with rapt attention. David was looking jealous at the perceived favoritism, so Amy snatched a cube off the coffee table and gave it to him to play with. "Kids…they're a handful, right?" She asked, more to break the silence as she retook her seat across from them.

"Yes, but we manage," Patricia said, adding, "and you do so well, Amy. Rory's an excellent nurse, too. It's such a shame—oh!" The brunette gasped in horror at the stricken look on her face, and Angela had gone very pale. Amy felt the breath had caught in her throat, and though she struggled to release it, to say something, do something, she couldn't. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Amy, I didn't mean- it was just so devastating when we heard about it—" It had been devastating for _them_? What did they have to do with any of it?

"You're wonderful with children, Amy," Angela attempted to intercede. "And you and Rory are two of the nicest people. We only wish- well, to raise a child and care for them, it's such a gift." Why did they have to keep talking? Couldn't they see that she didn't want them to talk about it?

"I know," she managed, trying to convey with those two words that it was done. Still, Angela opened her mouth again, but was interrupted.

"She really does. I think Amy's been taking care of me since she was seven," the Doctor said, walking in with a tray of four cups. It might have been mere coincidence that the tea had been ready at that point, but the look in the Time Lord's eyes of complete concern as he studied her made her think not.

Injecting himself back into the conversation was the very distraction they'd needed, and the two women seized on it, still quite interested in the enigmatic John Smith. She took the time to turn and compose herself, wiping furiously at eyes that stung with hot, unshed tears.

"So you and Amy grew up together?" Patricia asked, and his eyes widened.

"Oh, ehm, yes?" The alien responded, and she at last relaxed at the bewildered expression he wore. For the sake of his cover story, John Smith had grown up in Leadworth, but the idea that the Doctor had grown up with her and Rory was near-laughable. Of course, the reality that their daughter had grown up with them instead was no less ridiculous. And hadn't they cared for Mels? But they hadn't held her in their arms like little David.

"But surely you've got a family of your own to rely on? Even with all the travelling," Angela pressed, and he floundered a bit again.

"Well, it's, er—"

"He does," she answered firmly, and nodded ever so slightly at the surprised, yet happy smile that appeared on his face.

When the conversation eventually changed to idle neighborhood gossip, the Doctor wandered over to Ellie, sitting down and listening to her talk about what she'd been reading and looking at. Finally, the women made their excuses, still visibly uncomfortable with the earlier accident, and Amy showed them and their children out.

The strength she'd barely been able to uphold crumbled as she shut the door behind them, and she collapsed against it, the tears falling freely now. The Doctor had followed her though, and his arms wrapped around her shaking frame and pulled her to him.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, and she felt his head shake above her and knew he was telling her not to apologize. "I just- every time they all get together for a birthday, or it's time to sign the kids up for sports, and they just look at me, you know? They look at me, and Rory, and I- I just don't- I don't want their pity." He half-led, half-carried her back to the sitting room, and then she was curled up like a helpless child on his lap, head resting against his chest as she wept. But he just sat on the sofa with one arm around her and the other combing soothingly through her hair.

"I wish I'd never told them," she sniffled. "They asked, and I- but I should've- I wish I hadn't said anything." Amy thought perhaps he intended to just wait her sobbing out silently, but then she felt his chest rise with the intake of a deep breath.

"Her name was Susan."

"Who?"

"My granddaughter," he replied simply, and her heart clenched painfully, that air suddenly hard to obtain once again.

"Why?" She breathed, and he somehow understood just what she meant.

"Because you asked, Amelia." Some sound was torn from deep within her, rising on a tide up her throat and bursting from her lips as a something stuck between a moan and a cry. Amy didn't want him to feel he had to do this for her, didn't want him to drown himself in his own sorrows in some twisted way to make her feel better.

But the Doctor continued, voice shaking lightly as though he couldn't believe his own daring in giving words to the secrets he held in his hearts. "She was smart and kind, and had an endless amount of patience where I was concerned," he chuckled, but it lacked in any sort of amusement. "Susan was the very first, the first companion I ever took with me to see the universe, when it was brand new to the both of us…and she was the first to leave." His hand had stopped its comforting movement through her hair, and she was tempted to look up at his face, yet fearful of what she might find.

"I think that might have been why I let her go so easily- I don't think I'd be able to now. I—" But his voice faltered and died. "She should have been my world—but I was so foolish," he whispered the words into her hair, and when Amy risked a peek she found that her friend's eyes were squeezed shut, yet some wetness had still leaked out from the corners.

"Don't," she finally regained her voice, and his eyes snapped open to stare at her. "Please, I don't—it's too painful for you…I understand now." All that curiosity she'd had when first starting out, first getting to know him. And he was actually telling her what she'd wanted to know, what she'd always wanted to know, but she couldn't bear to hear it. She realized now why he'd never said a word.

Neither spoke for a very long time, clinging to each other because that was what they needed.

OoO

Rory came home from work to find a note on the coffee table written by the Doctor, explaining he had put Amy to bed after a rather trying day, and that he was doing maintenance on the TARDIS should the Ponds need him. When he stuck his head into their bedroom just to check on her, his wife was beginning to stir, so he waited for her to wake up.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hey," she replied, and he frowned upon noting that her voice sounded a bit thick and her eyes were rather bloodshot still. She was frowning as well, but more in confusion than anything else. "How did I get—oh. Where is he?"

"In the TARDIS, fixing something-or-other. Well, I haven't actually seen him, but he left a note." She nodded. "Said you'd had a 'trying day'."

Amy bit her lip a moment. "Yeah."

"Want to talk about it?" He offered, but she sighed.

"I just want you here, Rory. That's all I need."

So the Ponds held each other and drifted off to sleep as the Doctor sat in his ship alone.

**Sorry, I went back to sad…anyway, I hope you guys aren't too depressed. Still, I hope you enjoyed the read, keep telling me your suggestions, thanks for taking the time and please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the wait, guys. I was out of town the past few days, so I didn't have access to my computer. At any rate, you guys are amazing! Over a hundred reviews? I never thought this story would be near that popular. So, as a big thank-you for all the feedback, the favorites, and the follows, this chapter is something that loads of you guys have been asking for, and it'd probably take me forever to name every one of you, so instead I'll just say I hope you enjoy it.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Eleven**

The Ponds were still tucked away in their bed, no doubt recovering from the previous emotional day. The Doctor was sure that Amy had told her husband about the visit from Angela and Patricia, and that the two of them needed rest. They also needed cheering up.

So, in order to do that, the Time Lord was of course going to do the one thing Amy Pond had specifically told him _not_ to: use the kitchen. He felt it made complete sense.

For one thing, he resented the implication that the Scottish woman believed he couldn't cook. He realized he didn't seem the domestic type- and he most certainly wasn't –but even a mad man grew tired of processed food from a futuristic- to the Ponds' –machine after a few hundred years. That and cooking was just another tactic that the Doctor employed to relieve the boredom, fill the silence when he was alone, so he didn't have to think so much.

And he wanted to do something for them, too. They'd already done so much for him, letting him into their home and doing their best to make him comfortable in this environment he was so very unaccustomed to. The least he could do was try to make himself seem worth the effort.

It was easy enough to go through the motions of finding a skillet, taking different foods out of the refrigerator, and setting up a tray ready to carry breakfast to their room, so much so that he was honestly on auto-pilot. Perhaps because he'd been checking a burner he didn't see the tell-tale flash of electricity. It could have been since he was humming a little under his breath as he stirred eggs that he didn't hear the stiletto heels on the linoleum. And maybe the smell of sizzling bacon had distracted his nose from the familiar perfume.

But he definitely felt the slender, yet strong, arms that wrapped around him from behind, and the wisps of curly hair that tickled the back of his neck as a chin rested on his shoulder. The Doctor did his best not to jump in surprise. She laughed anyway.

"River!" He tried his best to keep his voice down, remembering that the Ponds—his in-laws—were still sound asleep. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to convey with that one word; a greeting, a protest, it hardly mattered for he was already starting to relax in her hold.

"Well, well, I drop by to visit my parents and I find _breakfast_. Hello, Sweetie." He could practically feel her smirk as his whole face flushed, but was determined not to rise to that flirtation. He was above such things, especially in her parents' house. He was.

"Are you hungry?" The Doctor asked instead, completely civilized, and knew without looking that she was pouting in disappointment. "How would you like your eggs?"

"Hard-boiled." Oh, she was wicked.

"River," he warned.

She laughed again. "You cannot tell me you didn't see that coming, Doctor."

"I didn't," he countered testily.

"You didn't even consider it?" She was still teasing him, and so he retorted irritably,

"It's not as if I had to consider such things before you, River Song." He regretted his quick words almost instantly, for she loosened her arms and lifted her chin off him.

"Has it not been that long since me?" She'd nearly drawn completely from him and her voice had just the slightest tremor of uncertainty, insecurity, in it. He switched the burner off, and hurriedly whirled around to face her properly. The Ponds' breakfast was done, so now he needed to fix his latest mistake.

"I didn't mean- I've known you—argh, spoilers," he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose at the obstacle the word presented to his reassuring of the woman. The woman who, when he glanced down at her, was looking increasingly apprehensive and closed off, likely scolding herself on the inside for not checking properly first. In fact, he saw her reaching for a pocket in the bag slung over her shoulder that he knew contained her diary.

Well perhaps it was stupid, but for once the Doctor wanted to do something normally. He was tired of spoilers and having to edge around each other carefully with their guard up until could be sure of each other. She shouldn't have to feel defensive toward him, here in her parent's house.

He sighed. "Oh, River. River Song—" he seized her by the shoulders, kissing her soundly, and she responded almost immediately. "My wife," he finished with a smile, which she returned shakily, so he wound his arms around her more securely, tucking her head under his chin and stroking her hair. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, my love," she said softly, her arms draped loosely around his neck, and she played with the hairs at the base of it. He sighed again, though this one was of a different kind than the last, and River hummed a little in response, clearly satisfied that they'd recovered some semblance of peace. But still just as restless as he, she inquired, "And what brings you here, Doctor? Surely not just culinary practice."

"Bit of holiday, actually," he replied.

"Really?"

"Well, there are these sort of cube-things hanging about at the moment," he admitted, his eyes briefly straying to one of the little black blocks, but they returned just as quickly to her as she chuckled, the vibrations it caused shooting from her body to his at lightning speed due to their proximity. Kissing the top of her head lightly in response, he used that as an excuse to breath in her scent, something that always brought him comfort. He truly had missed her.

And yet, the times between their meeting were often so far apart, at least for him. After all, Dr. Song saw him most every night at Stormcage, whether from his visits or her own machinations. He could tally the nights up in his head, all twelve-thousand life sentences, and tick off the ones he had already experienced. That he had used up.

Because after that, he truly didn't know what would happen anymore. She would earn her pardon at some point, he knew, and become a professor, but he had no way of knowing just how long she would have that position. How long between then and the Library. How long between then and Darillium.

He was just like Kazran, hoarding the time they had, her time. Only the Doctor didn't have to choose his one last day with his beloved. It had already been picked for him, by her. He didn't know if that was better or worse.

It was easy now to understand that night in California, 1952, how those two young lovebirds hadn't even paid him any mind. Why would they want to? He didn't think he could break away from this woman in his arms right now if he tried. Not for anything.

"Are my earplugs still in? Because I don't hear any music."

Except her father. The Doctor really did leap back in surprise, and fear for his life, knocking his head on a cabinet to see Rory standing in the archway, still pajama-clad and sleepy-eyed. He realized belatedly that he had been swaying slightly on the spot as if to some inaudible beat, likely giving the appearance that they had been slow-dancing to the Roman. Whose sword, if he recalled correctly, was still in the TARDIS.

"Good morning, dad," River said with a smile, approaching him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Rory grinned and hugged her, and the Doctor relaxed. It seemed the nurse was focusing more on his daughter being home than on the somewhat compromising position he'd found them in. Because he was fairly certain his wife's lips had been on his double-pulse point, if the strange sort of tingling feeling that lingered was any indication.

"Morning," Rory was replying, so the Doctor stopped scratching at his neck and attempted to actually concentrate. "When did you get in? You know you never have to wait for us to get up, we want to see you." He felt himself smiling at the other man's words, having been on the receiving end himself a time or two. Ponds, never worrying about themselves and always there for family.

"Oh, don't worry, I only just arrived," she dismissed. "And I kept myself entertained." River threw a mischievous grin and a wink over her shoulder at him, and Rory's gaze fell on him as well. It was times like these that he had to wonder if she was still trying to get him killed.

"Good morning, Rory," he greeted brightly, his voice 'like that' as Craig had so eloquently put it once. In a slightly lower, normal register, he continued. "You must be hungry. Have some breakfast."

It was probably a good thing his friend had gone without dinner the night before, for his hunger was likely what compelled him to turn to the stove. Rory blinked. "Oh, um, thanks. Did you make this?" When the Doctor nodded, he added, "You do realize Amy will kill you."

Before any of them could comment further, the matriarch's slippered footsteps could be heard approaching. "Who am I going to kill?" The redhead asked as she entered the kitchen.

"Hopefully no one, I think it'd spoil my visit," River remarked, and he saw the surprise and joy spark in her mother's eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter.

"River!" Amy rushed forward happily to embrace the other woman, which the archeologist readily returned.

"Hello, mum." But Amy turned around when Rory started serving himself eggs and bacon.

"How exactly did that get there, Mr. Pond?" Rory paused, shooting him an apologetic look before answering.

"Uh, the Doctor made breakfast." Now the Scottish woman moved to face him, staring at him sternly.

"Doctor."

"Yes, Amy?" He did his best to keep his voice level and calm.

"What have I said about using the kitchen?"

"…not to do that?"

"Yeah. So what did you do?" She was leading him through it like he had the IQ of a houseplant, but he thought it best to just go along to try and not increase her wrath.

"I used it."

"Doctor!" She barked sharply, bringing a hand up to rub at her temples in frustration.

"I'm sorry, Amy, but I- I wanted to do something for you. I mean, after yesterday—" he broke off, seeing her frown turn to a sad one. Why was he so terrible at explaining himself?

"It tastes fine," Rory offered from his place at the table, and they saw that he'd made up a plate for his wife as well. Amy sat across from him, hesitantly picking up her fork and taking a bite of eggs. She looked up, seemingly stunned.

"It does," she agreed after a moment. "It tastes normal. Like food."

"Normal? _Fine_?" He repeated. "What, so it's just mediocre?"

"Well, no," she amended almost grudgingly. "It- it tastes good." She still appeared to be having trouble grasping that.

"Were you expecting something different?" River inquired in confusion, and he turned to see her dividing what was left in the skillet between two plates. Carrying them over to the table, she set them down and pointed out, "Eggs and bacon in the TARDIS aren't different than eggs and bacon in your kitchen."

The Ponds froze in their seats as that sunk in. "Wait, so the breakfast we would eat on the TARDIS—" Rory started.

"Was made by the Doctor," River cut him off with a smile. "He really is a sweetie, isn't he?" He was busy adding sugar, cream, or milk to four teacups in the way that they each preferred and seeing as he was facing away from them he allowed his chest to puff out a bit in pride. Joining them at the table at last, he placed each cup down before taking his seat.

"Thank you, dear," he acknowledged her praise and she smiled back at him.

"You're welcome, honey," the blonde returned and then took a delicate sip of tea. Amy still appeared perplexed and so her daughter raised an eyebrow. "Where did you think it came from, mother?"

"I don't- I hadn't really thought about- I guess I just figured it was _there_, you know?" The redhead said at last, and he furrowed his brow.

"What, it just showed up? The TARDIS is my ship, Pond, not my housekeeper. She keeps the kitchen stocked but the actual meals have to be made." Honestly, humans saw something they couldn't ever fully grasp and just assumed suddenly it was like magic.

"I suppose that explains why we'd always have to make our own lunch or anything else," Rory spoke, nodding a bit as he ate. "But, how did you always have it ready just in time, yet we never actually saw you?"

He shrugged. "I'd hear you start moving around, and it takes Amy about an hour to get ready in the morning after that, and you always wait for her," he explained, and the other man nodded in understanding. Amy was staring at him, her brow still creased in a frown and he was beginning to worry it might get stuck like that. "What?"

"Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"

He let out a disbelieving laugh. "You never let me! Pond, sometimes I wonder just what you think I do when you're not around, or how you think I manage."

"Who says you manage even when we're around?" She retorted with a teasing lilt to her tone.

"Touché," he nodded before raising his own cup to his lips. He caught River's eye across the table, expecting to see her sharing a laugh at his expense, but the smile she wore seemed strained for some reason, and she changed the subject with forced cheerfulness.

"So, how's the hospital, dad?" Rory chewed and swallowed the food in his mouth before responding.

"Oh, the same. I've been picking up more regular shifts recently, so that's sort of nice. My coworkers are easy to get along with, too."

"_Most_ of them," he felt the need to correct the nurse, and Rory grimaced.

"Well, yeah. If it makes you feel any better, Frank was put on probation." He was indeed quite pleased to hear that news, even if it did seem vindictive of him.

"Oh? Who's Frank?" River arched a brow.

"An orderly at the hospital," Rory clarified. "He, er, sort of punched the Doctor and broke his nose."

River tilted her head, giving him a considering look. "Yes, I was wondering about that."

"What do you mean, wondering?" He repeated suspiciously, a hand coming up to his nose. "Are you saying it looks off? River?" When she started to laugh, he realized she'd just been pulling his leg, and felt a little foolish as Amy joined in.

"It was too good an opportunity, my love," she apologized, not sounding at all sorry. "But trust me, if it had been the case, I would have asked about it first thing." He took some small measure of comfort from that, and returned to his breakfast as she gave her mother her attention. "Well, mum, what about you? How's modeling?"

"Sorry, River, I've stopped doing that," Amy shook her head. "I write for a travel magazine now. Oh- is that spoilers?" She bit her lip and her eyes darted from her daughter to him nervously.

River took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "No, mum. I just have trouble keeping track. So you're writing. How's that?"

Amy said something in response, but it sounded far away to him. He was more interested in observing his wife's face. Not because he was distracted by her beauty or something equally ridiculous, but because of the expression she had made just for a split second, when Amy had stated her current profession. She'd hid it well, but her eyes had widened, her breath had caught sharply, her skin had paled ever so slightly, and her lips had pulled down into a frown. In fact, he likely would have missed it if he wasn't so well acquainted with such a countenance.

It was the exact look he got whenever she introduced herself as Professor Song. Because he knew what that implied. And he didn't want to even consider it.

"…think _somebody's_ daydreaming," Amy's accented voice finally filtered through his thoughts, and he returned to reality just in time to find the family of three all watching him with a range of amused expressions. But he thought River's looked a tad uneasy, as if she knew. She knew he suspected something was wrong.

But for the Ponds' sake he did his best to act the flustered, scatterbrained madman. "Who, me? No, I was merely contemplating the science behind how the Old Girl supplies the kitchen. You've made me curious, Pond."

She rolled her eyes indulgently and Rory just shook his head. "Well, think about that some other day, Raggedy Man. Right now, you can wash the dishes you used."

He grinned wryly. "Trust you to use your new knowledge to your advantage." She swatted at his arm lightly as he stood. "Alright, but somebody else can dry."

"I think I can handle that," River got up as well, coming around the table to the sink and retrieving a towel.

"Do you cook, River?" Rory asked, obviously curious about his daughter's skills.

The archeologist threw her head back and laughed. "Oh father, why do you think I married him?"

"Just for my cooking?" He felt the need to inquire with a pout as Amy and Rory got up, likely to go finish getting dressed.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before ushering him over to the dirty dishes on the counter. "Not just," she admitted. "But that's for you to know, Doctor, and them to never find out."

He certainly felt the flustered, scatterbrained madman now.

OoO

It was well into the evening before she stood up at last, bidding them farewell. Amy and Rory each held her for a long time, talking softly, and he had to turn away feeling the familiar pang of guilt. River stepped outside into the back garden as was her habit when about to use her vortex manipulator, but the Doctor found himself slipping out quietly after her.

She smiled as he slid the glass door shut silently behind him and met her on the patio. "I suppose you want a real goodbye?"

He accepted it readily, greedy as he was for her touch, her lips, and it was some time before they parted. Though they didn't truly separate, his arms around her waist keeping her pulled in close to him and her tight grip on his lapels keeping him leaned forward slightly, in easy reach. But he couldn't get too carried away.

"River," he breathed quietly, and could already feel her heartbeats quicken. "Why is it bad that Amy's a journalist? What does that mean for them, their time streams?" But she was shaking her head and already tugging him down for another kiss, to shut him up just as much as to soothe. He faltered in his resolve, lost in the sensation and not desiring to push her away.

At last her lips trailed over to his ear. "Doctor, you know I can't. Spoilers."

"I thought we'd be done with those, with the important ones, once we were married," he complained somewhat petulantly, even though it was entirely unfair of him. He was sitting on the biggest spoiler there was, yet he said not a word.

"I'm sorry, my love, but there's always more. There's _always_ more out there, to see and do," she stressed like it was the most vital thing there was. He pulled back, eyeing her peculiarly.

"I know," he told her, and she smiled sadly.

"Yes, you do. But I fear you might forget."

"Can't you tell me, River?" He begged, unable to stop himself. "Just this once, I need to know—"

"Hush," she interrupted and his mouth snapped shut. "Please don't ask again." She'd shut her eyes against him and he felt wretched for doing this to her. When she opened them again, her gaze was calm and collected, but her eyes spoke of pain and grief. Pain and grief that was to be his future. "Besides, I think you already know. Why are you here, Doctor?"

He couldn't bare it, so he hugged her tightly again. She allowed him to hold her, not making any sign or indication that he had to let her go. "What do I do?" He whispered at last into her curls.

Her face was turned so her cheek rested against his chest, so he heard her clearly as she murmured, "The same thing you always do. Keep going."

"It seems like that's the only thing I ever do."

"It's the only thing there is," she countered, and he noted to himself that this time it was her rocking them from side to side slowly. Tinged as this moment was with sadness and hints of tragedy, he'd much rather end up crying into her hair or her shoulder than the Ponds' guest bedroom's bed sheets.

"You don't have to leave just now, do you? Couldn't you stay, River- please. At least the night." He heard her sigh against him and so he hurried on. "It's just that we're all here for once and—"

"And you'd have ample opportunity to persuade me to tell you everything," she cut him off, chuckling with little humor at the end. "I know all your tricks, Doctor." The idea had crossed his mind, but really he simply did not want her to go. Still, he reluctantly released her so that she could step out of the circle of his arms and plug in the coordinates for her trip.

"So that's it then. Nothing to be done, no saving them?" He gave one last ditch effort, trying to ignore the guilt at playing with her feelings.

But she just shook her head. "I never said _they_ would need saving, my love." He opened his mouth to reply to that, but she'd stood up on her toes and covered his lips with hers. "Don't look back, don't try and look ahead, just focus on what is now." River stepped back once more before he could properly get his arms around her. "Goodnight," she said simply, pressing the button that activated her manipulator, and she disappeared.

"Goodnight," the Doctor breathed to the dark, turning after some time and reentering the house. He'd intended on heading straight to his room, but Amy caught sight of him as he passed by the sitting room. She and Rory appeared to be watching television.

"That took a while," she called in a teasing voice. He paused, swallowed once, and forced a smile on his face, sticking his head back through the archway.

"Did it? I hadn't noticed."

She snorted. "Of course you didn't."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Well, what are you two up to, then?"

"Watching the telly. There's not much on, but you can give it a go," Rory offered, patting the available space next to him on the couch.

The Doctor hesitated, not wanting to spoil their evening with his foreboding thoughts and mood. "I'm not sure I'm one for watching television," he hedged.

"That's what you said about the Wii," the nurse pointed out, and he felt quite stumped by that bit of logic.

"Yeah, and what else is there to do?" Amy added. He realized they were quite right, all three of them. What was the use of wasting whatever time was left worrying? If there was nothing he could do, so be it, but he wanted to look back on them with fond memories.

"Alright," he said aloud, plopping down next to Rory. "What's this show about?"

The bed sheets would still be there for his tears in the early hours of the morning, just something else to do to take his mind off things while the humans slept.

**Ok, so kind of angsty at the end. Lots of hints at The Angels Take Manhattan, too. Thanks again for continuing to read, and please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**In an effort to try and get back to regular updates, I'm going to do my best to power through this chapter. Thanks once again for all the reviews, follows, and favorites, guys, it really means a lot. Ok, so this chapter was a request made by quite a lot of you, and my internet's down as I type this, so I can't check who. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Twelve**

"I thought that seminar on procedure was rather informative," Ranjit commented as they made their way into the main cafeteria. Rory nodded, but was too busy searching his pockets to give a verbal response. He and his coworker were attending a series of lectures and seminars in London, and had gotten on the bus early that morning to get here. Unfortunately, he had only just remembered he had left the lunch Amy had packed the day before on the kitchen counter when he'd tripped on a cube, and only had some small change on him, hardly enough for a meal.

"I think I'll just skip—" he started to say, but broke off the sentence when he felt his phone start to buzz in his pocket. "Hang on, have to take this. The wife," he added upon checking the caller ID. Ranjit grinned and waved him off, so Rory went back out the way he came, but turning left into the lobby instead of right to the corridors of lecture halls. Out of politeness to his colleagues from around the country, the nurse waited until he was in the large, open space with a glass-lined front wall before answering his mobile.

"Hey, Amy, what's up?" Rory hoped, really hoped that this was a purely innocent phone call. The last time the redhead had called him at work it had been to inform him that their basement had completely flooded, but not to worry because the Doctor had materialized the TARDIS inside it and was for all intents and purposes scuba-diving to find the source of the trouble.

He'd barely been able to concentrate on work the rest of the day.

"Hey, stupid face," Amy greeted, and he heard the sound of a rustling bag as she continued, "You forgot your lunch."

"Oh, I know, I'm just going to—"

"And you didn't take enough money to cover food and transport," she cut across smoothly, accurately guessing his current situation. "Lucky for you, you're getting both for free."

He'd been about to assure her that he could go without a meal, but now Rory hesitated before asking, "How do you mean?"

"The Doctor's going to bring it to you, of course," she scoffed, and Rory's eyes went wide.

"Oh, Amy, that's probably not the best idea—"

"Why not? It's just a quick trip, not even time travel, so he can't get lost."

"He's the Doctor," was all he said, and was sure she merely rolled her eyes in reply.

"Bad piloting aside, he's insisted, so he'll be just a minute."

While Rory admitted to himself that it felt nice that the Time Lord was so concerned about his health he'd make a simple little trip just for him, he knew someone had to stay logical about this. "And what if Ranjit sees 'John Smith'? How am I going to explain how he got to London in less than five minutes?" Sure, the other man hadn't followed him, but it was a possibility.

"Then just intercept him, get your food, and turn him right back around. Should be simple enough, Centurion," she countered, and that just wasn't fair. She knew he loved it when she called him that.

"Well, if you're sure," he agreed.

"Great, he's leaving now," she told him. "Have fun with your conference-thing."

He smiled at that, typical Amy. "I will. Love you."

"Love you, too," she returned before hanging up. Rory sighed, shaking his head as he snapped the phone shut and placed it in his pocket.

"Spouse?" A woman's voice inquired, and he turned to see the speaker giving him a knowing smile. She was a pretty woman, perhaps a few years older than he or Amy, with dark skin and black hair held back from her face by a headband.

"Yeah, actually," he replied.

In one hand she held a phone of her own, and she waved it a bit saying, "Just got off the phone with mine. We were going to meet for lunch, but the baby's being a bit cranky."

"So you live in London, then?" He guessed, and she nodded before giving a little gasp.

"Oh my God, I'm being so rude! Sorry, didn't even—" She shook her head at herself and gave an embarrassed smile, sticking her hand out to shake. "Martha Smith-Jones, or Doctor Jones if we're being professional."

He took it, glad to relieve her of her mortification. "Rory Williams. I'm, er, a nurse." Rory was well aware of the societal disdain for male nurses, but the woman just grinned.

"Pleased to meet you. Is this your first time to London?"

"Well," he stalled, recalling their trip to Henry the Eighth's London only a month or so ago. "Sort of."

She tilted her head and furrowed her brow in a confused manner, and seemed about to pose a follow-up to her question, but didn't get the chance.

"Rory!" It was a call he should have been very familiar with by now, and yet he still jumped, because he'd completely forgotten his task. Wait for the Doctor, receive his lunch, and send the alien right back home. Now he'd lost the advantage because of surprise.

He turned around, seeing his friend striding toward him, glancing about the high-ceilinged room with interest. A brown paper bag was clutched in one hand.

"Oh- John," Rory decided, because after all, calling the Time Lord 'Doctor' at a medical convention would have been incredibly silly. "My lunch. Thanks." He took the bag from the beaming alien, about to open his mouth and direct the man back the way he'd come, but was interrupted.

"Wish I had a friend to magically appear with food," Martha Smith-Jones remarked with a laugh. "That's pretty lucky, mate."

For some inexplicable reason, the Doctor's face had gone slack in some mixture of shock and incredulity, and he was very, very pale. Rory realized belatedly that he had been blocking the other's view of the woman behind him, and so he watched with growing interest as his friend leaned almost comically to the side, his eyes growing bigger as he took in the female doctor's appearance.

"Hi," she tried with a warm, yet teasing grin, laughing a bit when the alien gave a start.

"What- oh! Yes, I mean, hello!" The Time Lord's lips twitched into a nervous smile, and he snapped his head back and forth between Rory and Dr. Jones, looking almost lost. "I, uh—"

"John, this is Dr. Jones," Rory introduced, more than a little concerned by his friend being tongue-tied. The Doctor was _never_ at a loss for words. "We just met; she's attending the conference here. Martha, this is my friend, John Smith."

For some reason, the woman blinked, nearly taking a step back at the name. "John Smith, huh? I have a friend who goes by that name." Though she was still smiling, something told Rory that she wasn't really there, and that her mind was far away, thinking of other things. Her gaze finally refocused on the Doctor. "Common name, I suppose. It's part of my married name, at any rate."

She'd held out her hand again and the Doctor grasped it tightly, his face splitting into an ear-to-ear grin. "Very common. And _very_ nice to meet you, Martha Smith-Jones." She kept smiling, though he felt it was probably more to humor the crazy man than anything, and then stepped back. Rory took that as his cue to regain his mission.

"Right, well, thanks for the lunch, John," he began, yet he suspected the Doctor was not even listening. The nurse was leading them back to the front doors, but the alien just kept grinning to himself.

He even heard the Time Lord breathe the words, "Smith and Jones."

"But I think _Amy's_ expecting you back," Rory finished, stressing his wife's name. He knew that the Doctor, just like himself, was devoted to Amy. They were her boys.

Sure enough, it did the trick. His friend lost the little smile and snapped out of his strange daze. "Oh, right. Not to worry, Rory, I'm parked just around the corner. She won't even miss me—"

"Then you'd best get going," he stated, knowing how things could get out of control when the Doctor was around. The longer he stayed, the more likely that the medical convention was about to be attacked by aliens or something. "Don't want to be late."

"She's a TARDIS, not a bus, Rory!" The Time Lord laughed, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. "Anyway, I think I parked her around to the left."

"You _think_?" He repeated dubiously, but the other just headed out the doors. "Doctor!" He called after him in mild irritation, but a wave was all he got in return. Rory sighed again, turning around and decided upon heading back to the cafeteria to finally eat his lunch.

He was met by a pair of wide eyes and a mouth dropped open in astonishment. Martha Smith-Jones had only been standing a few yards away.

"You called him Doctor…and he said TARDIS…" she was speaking barely above a whisper, but the words sounded loud to his ears.

"Uh, I can, er, explain," he started, truly unaware of what he was going to say, but speech was rendered unnecessary as the woman slapped a hand to her forehead.

"Ugh! _John Smith_—Martha, how can you be so _thick_!" She scolded herself, shaking her head as a determined look settled on her features. Rory followed her stare outside, to where the Doctor was just walking around the corner. And then he had to jump back as she ran past him out the door.

Dr. Jones could _run_. Rory mentally shook himself and took off after her. He was absolutely thrown, not having a clue what was going on, but it could be potentially bad. That was all he needed to know.

"Where are you going?" He yelled as he followed after her.

"To stop him from disappearing again!" Was her reply, and as they turned the corner she put on a final burst of speed, for the Doctor was nearly to the TARDIS. Rory thought perhaps the mere sight of the blue box spurred the woman on.

"Doctor!" Martha Smith-Jones shouted, and the Time Lord only had time to whirl about in confusion before the female doctor threw herself at him.

"Mar—oof!" They went down in a tangle of limbs, just feet away from the ship.

OoO

He felt winded. Absolutely, utterly winded. And he wasn't sure if it was because of the action of a full-grown woman launching herself bodily at him or because it was _Martha Jones_. Martha Jones!

As he sat up, reaching forward to help her as well, their eyes met, really met. And it was a hello, but not the kind two polite strangers exchanged for a single, brief moment. It was an experience, a shared treasure, because after all this time—

"Hello, Martha Jones," the Doctor breathed. Before he could contain himself, his arms had gone all the way around her in a crushing embrace. But she was clutching back just as tightly.

A shocked, yet relieved sounding laugh seemed to tumble from the human doctor's lips. "I can't believe it—it's really you!" He just held her with a contented smile on his face. That was until he saw a very familiar pair of shoes appear on the grass in front of him. The Doctor looked up to meet Rory's rather bemused expression.

"Mind filling me in?" The nurse requested, and Martha gave a start as if just remembering his presence.

"Oh my God, sorry- I—"

"It's all quite simple, Rory," he cut across smoothly, recognizing her embarrassed stammering for what it was. The female doctor usually liked to act more composed around strangers or acquaintances. Releasing her and jumping to his feet in one motion, he offered his hand to her to pull her up as well. "You see, this is Martha and she—"

"Travelled with you," the other man summed up, and the Doctor snapped his mouth shut, quite put out. The Roman always was particularly good at guessing what he was about to say.

"Well, yes," he grudgingly agreed, and he glanced to his right to see Martha watching with an amused smirk. "But that makes it sound a lot more boring than it was."

"I take it you're travelling with him now?" She inquired.

"Um, yeah. Me and my wife, Amy," Rory explained and she nodded in understanding.

"That's a bit unusual," Martha remarked, turning to look at him. The Doctor shrugged.

"It's new."

"That's not all that's new, mister." At his blank look, she merely rolled her eyes and waved an arm at him.

He blinked. "Oh! Yes, that. Regenerated—what do you think?" He held his arms out to either side, allowing her a full inspection. Though she shook her head a bit, Martha humored him and gave his new body a considering look.

"It's- different," she said at last, and his face must have indicated some disappointment or uncertainty for she hastened to add, "That's not a bad thing, I just have to get used to it. You lost the suit," she noted.

"Pinstripes aren't that flattering on me," he dismissed and she actually laughed a little. Then Martha reached out to adjust his bowtie, which had gone askew from their fall to the ground.

"Thought these were just for special occasions."

"Every day's a special occasion, Martha," he told her, his face stretching into a smile as he elaborated, "Today I get to see you."

She shook her head at him again, turning to share a knowing look with Rory. "Don't you hate it when he does that? Makes it near impossible to be mad at him." As Rory nodded, the Doctor felt slightly concerned; was Martha supposed to be mad at him? "It's been awhile, Doctor," she hinted finally, her smile dimming. "Years."

Oh. He averted his eyes, too ashamed to meet her serious gaze. "So it has." He had the sudden thought that it was strange she hadn't known to look for him. He had been certain Jack would have gone straight to the Smith-Jones pair. But perhaps the Captain had wanted him to make the first step.

Well, he'd disappointed the immortal again. This meeting had been a complete accident, no effort on his part, a coincidence. Just another joke the Universe played on him for fun. Taunting Martha Jones.

"You were going to regenerate that last time we saw you, weren't you?" He looked up to see her sad, almost remorseful expression. "And you were all alone."

The Doctor began to panic. "Oh, it wasn't so bad, Martha- just some radiation poisoning—" He blanched at the alarmed looks that came over both her and Rory's faces. "Er, I mean, it was fine, I was fine. I've regenerated by myself before, I'm used to it." He certainly had a knack for sticking his foot in his mouth, didn't he?

She reached out to touch his arm. "That doesn't make it ok. And before that, when we all just left—I didn't even check, I never thought Donna—" He liked to think she had become overcome with emotion and so threw her arms about him for comfort, but in honesty his face had crumpled and it was he resting his head on her shoulder as she kept talking, for some reason feeling this need to purge herself of a guilt she unnecessarily carried. "I'm so sorry, Doctor."

"You've nothing to be sorry about," he insisted, and if his voice sounded a bit choked up, he wasn't going to admit to it. After all they'd been through, it was he who should be sorry. And he was. The Doctor sniffed once, raising his eyes to meet Rory's concerned stare. The nurse looked away quickly, likely uncomfortable and feeling left out. "Ok, um, how have things been for you?" He asked the female doctor, trying to distract himself, and her, from the past. "You and Mr. Mickey?"

He heard her chuckle weakly as they straightened and stepped back from each other. "Not just me and Mr. Mickey, Doctor."

"Oh?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow, but she just grinned at him. "Oh!" He exclaimed a moment later. "You—how many? How old?" Martha Jones and Mickey Smith- with children! They'd make wonderful parents, he was sure.

"Just the one, so far. Mandy's a toddler," she informed him, the parental warmth and pride entering her tone.

"That's brilliant, Martha—amazing!"

"That's rich, coming from the man who travels time and space saving the universe on a daily basis," she only half-joked.

"Tell me about it," Rory agreed. Well this just wouldn't do. The Doctor took each of their hands.

"But it is! Martha, Rory—you and your normal, human lives. That's what it's all for." These two brilliant humans were so much his better. Settling down with a family, dedicating their lives and devoting themselves to it- all the things he could never bring himself to do. The least he could do was make sure they could.

The two medical professionals returned his smile, before each glanced away, somewhat abashed. Rory and Martha, quite similar in that regard, really.

Martha gasped as she caught sight of her watch. "I'm giving a lecture after lunch- I've got to go set everything up. But—" she seemed torn, clearly not wanting to leave so soon.

"Go on," he urged, and she smiled gratefully.

"Just promise, Doctor, please—this won't be the last?" He hesitated, and her face immediately fell, so he hastily replied.

"Of course it isn't. Still haven't seen Mandy yet, have I?"

"You'll love her." He was sure he would, the daughter of two such friends as Martha and Mickey. She leaned forward once more to give him a final hug. "I'll see you, then."

"You will," he assured quietly. She hurried back to the building, stopping before turning the corner to give a final wave which he returned. But as she vanished from sight, his smile faded. Saying goodbye to Martha Jones always left him a little empty inside.

"Well, um…thanks, again, for the lunch," his friend spoke up after a moment of silence, causing him to jump, startled from his thoughts.

"Oh, it was no trouble, Rory," he replied easily enough, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

"Exactly how many of your friends are living here and haven't seen you in years?" It wasn't an accusation, but he still winced.

"A few," he murmured at last. These Williams men, for whatever reason, when they asked him something, he couldn't seem to lie. Even if the truth hurt.

"I think I'll ask Martha for her contact information. Maybe we could meet up soon," the nurse suggested, and he smiled wryly. Trust Rory to not let him chicken out.

"That'd be very helpful, thank you Rory." The other man opened his mouth to say something else, but he pressed on, "Well, Amy's waiting. Best if I just head back."

"Er, right," the Roman agreed. "I think I'll just go eat then." Because Rory would never push things, not unless he was truly upset. Even if the man was bursting with questions, he would keep them to himself. Something he was grateful for in this moment; Amy would be interrogating him non-stop by this point.

As the Doctor reentered the TARDIS, the Old Girl gave a happy sort of hum. "You missed her, too, eh?" He pulled a switch, starting the takeoff process.

Martha Jones, certainly a blast from his now-distant past. It seemed the longer he stayed standing still with the Ponds, the more his past seemed to catch up. She was not unwelcome of course, the Woman Who Walked the Earth, the doctor who had earned her title…the friend who had left _him_.

For that made Dr. Martha Smith-Jones different from nearly everyone else, especially in these last hundreds of years. She had chosen when to go and how and why. She had chosen.

And every once in a while, she chose to come back. Reminding him of how amazing she was, reminding him of his foolishness and mistakes, reminding him of loss—but not completely.

She was the one thing he had really salvaged—oh, not perfectly, no. Thoughts of the soldier he had created always weighed heavily on his mind when they met. But she could be there, if she wished, living and breathing and seeing him. Martha Jones gave him hope.

If he could just repeat it once more—not The End, but To Be Continued. What a gift that would be. Something he knew he did not deserve. But it was always a possibility.

"What are you smiling to yourself about?" Amy questioned as soon as he stepped into the kitchen.

"What isn't there to smile about, Pond?" He returned swiftly, dropping a kiss to her forehead as he passed.

"You always find something," the redhead smiled fondly and sat down across from him at the table for lunch.

Just this once, please.

**So, it sort of had its ups and downs, but I think this was definitely a happier chapter than the last. Sorry for the super-long wait, but I got stuck about halfway through and then my schedule decided to swamp me with activity. Hopefully I can get back to more regular updates. Thanks once again for all your support and suggestions, I love reading them! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please review!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Ok guys, really sorry, it's been much too long since I've updated this one. But thank you all so much for the continued reviews, follows, and favorites! I'll admit I was a little stuck on what I wanted to write next; I get that everyone likes reunion chapters (me included) but I don't want too many in a row because that isn't the main focus of the story. So, while going back through the reviews I stumbled upon a suggestion from Joojoobrother that I simply couldn't pass up. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Alright, you know where the emergency contact list is, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I put one in your room, too, just to make sure."

"Thank you."

"There's food in the refrigerator, in case you get hungry."

"Yes I know, Pond."

"And no Wii tennis after ten."

"Ten, really?"

"Rory will only be a phone call away when he's at work, and his shifts are only a few hours long each."

"Sure you don't want to draw me a map to the hospital while you're at it?"

"Doctor!"

"Amy!" He returned in her same scolding tone. "Relax, it's only two days—two days! Rory and I can survive while you are away."

"Can I honestly be blamed for doubting that?" She questioned, frowning sternly down at him from where she'd made him sit at the kitchen table to go over everything one last time.

Augustus Pond had come down with an illness; nothing serious, but he was to stay home for a couple days, and Tabetha had phoned to inform her daughter. The two had conversed for a while, but the whole time he could see the concern and longing on her face. When Amy had hung up, he had suggested she go visit her parents. Rory had given his support to the idea as well, and so the redhead had agreed. Initially.

Now it seemed she was rethinking the logistics of leaving her boys alone in the house for two whole days. He couldn't help feeling a bit insulted, as he and the nurse were perfectly capable, self-sufficient beings.

Since Rory was at work, it had fallen to him to be the reassuring best friend and make sure Amy walked out that door. It seemed he wasn't doing that good enough of a job.

"Amelia," he said slowly and deliberately as he took her hands across the table and rose from his seat, "you need to do this. How long has it been since you visited Augustus and Tabetha? They are your parents, Amy, and they are as much a part of your family as Rory or I." Throughout this she had stood with wide eyes and shoulders that began to slowly loose the tension she had worked into them.

"You're right," she said with a heavy sigh, nodding slowly. "You're- you're absolutely right. I need this. Ok, I can do this. But you're sure—"

"We will be _fine_, Amy," the Doctor stated firmly, having already walked around the table to take her by the arm, pick up the bag she had packed, and lead her out the door. His timing could not have been more impeccable if he had tried; Amy's Aunt Sharon had just pulled up outside the house.

"Ok, then. Be good," she stressed at last, waiting for him to place her things in the back of the car and giving him a tight hug he readily returned. "I'll miss you both," she murmured.

"We'll miss you more," he promised, absolutely certain of that. Putting a smile back on his face when she pulled back, he added, "I'll pass a hug on to Mr. Pond then, shall I?"

She laughed at that. "You better." Amy then opened the passenger door of her aunt's car and dropped into the seat. He shut it for her and she flashed him one last smile and a wave before she buckled her seatbelt and the vehicle pulled away. Standing on the sidewalk and waving at the retreating car, he could make out Aunt Sharon turning her head back once to give a quizzical look at the strange man who she vaguely remembered from her niece's wedding.

When they turned off the street, the Doctor lowered his arm and went back into the house. The first thing he noted was that it was incredibly quiet inside. Not a single sound apart from his own breathing. It was early afternoon and he was all alone in a safe, completely normal human house.

He had gotten Amy off and on her way, and Rory wasn't going to be back from the hospital for hours. Now what was _he_ supposed to do?

OoO

Rory sighed as he pulled into the driveway, shutting off the car and just sitting there for a moment. Sure, it was nice to be done with a long day of work, but his busy shift had kept him from thinking about coming home to an Amy-less house. He was glad his wife was taking some time to see her family and he fully understood. But still, he was definitely going to miss her.

Although, it wasn't as if he had _no_ company. Sometimes the Doctor was enough company for ten or even more. Not that he didn't mind spending quality time with the alien; if they hadn't both been so worried over Amy and the baby, he might have appreciated those days spent looking for them more. Rory needed guy-time just as well as Amy-time.

These thoughts made him realize, however, that the Doctor had been completely alone for _hours_. And since the Time Lord wasn't flying out of the house at him in sheer joy…that meant he had to be occupied with something. Something in their house.

Warily, Rory got out of the car and made his way almost on tip-toe to his own front door. Pushing it open, he called out tentatively, "Doctor?" If the alien had blown something up or knocked down a wall or anything of the sort, Amy was going to kill him.

But there was no reply. The house was completely silent and still. _Too_ silent and still, for his liking. The Doctor was either deep in depression over Amy's absence or all Hell was about to break loose. Rory wasn't sure which would be better.

"Doctor?" He tried again, a bit louder this time. Still nothing. Rory walked quickly from room to room, only staying in each one long enough to determine that his friend was not there. Not in the kitchen getting food, not in the sitting room playing on the Wii, not even sleeping in his bed! A panic began to rise in Rory, and a terrible feeling of betrayal, because what if- what if the Doctor had just decided it wasn't worth it to wait around with Rory?

Running out the back door, feet pounding onto the patio, he skidded to a stop and let out a sigh of relief. The TARDIS was right where the Time Lord had parked it. He hadn't left.

"Get a hold of yourself," he muttered, shaking his head in shame at assuming the worst of the other man. The Doctor had likely chosen to take the time to himself to do maintenance on his ship. So Rory pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Doctor?"

Yet a response was once again not forthcoming. The alien's long legs weren't poking out from underneath the console, he wasn't sitting in the swing below the glass platform, and there were no telltale sounds of tinkering to be heard. Where on Earth was the man? "Doctor!"

The fear was quickly back, and he stumbled out the door and back through their house, double-checking all the rooms. Their door had been unlocked—what if someone had snuck in to rob them thinking that the place was empty, only to find a witness that needed to be gotten rid of? Or perhaps his friend had wandered off and gotten lost somewhere in their neighborhood? Or—

Rory burst out of the front door about to shout once again, when he caught sight of Patricia Crawley watering her flowers. Perhaps his panic-driven dramatics weren't the best way to go about this. As calmly as he could manage, the nurse crossed the street. "Hello, Patricia."

The brunette woman turned about, shutting off her hose just in time so as to not spray him with water. "Oh, hello, Rory," she smiled widely. "How are you today?"

"Fine. Listen, um, did you happen to see John go somewhere today? It's just he's not home right now."

"No, I haven't," she answered, eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Hasn't he got a mobile?"

"Probably wouldn't make a difference," he laughed bitterly. "Never answers the phone he has got." He suddenly wished he knew how to contact the alien via his psychic paper like everybody else seemed to be able to. "I'll just look around the neighborhood."

"Are you sure you don't want help? My husband could—"

"No thanks," he declined, already walking away. While he was very worried, Rory did not want to blow this out of proportion. If Amy found out he'd mobilized their whole street to search for the missing Doctor, she'd likely never want to leave the house again.

So he began jogging up and down streets, keeping his eyes peeled as he passed people out with their dogs, men and women returning from work with their briefcases, cars motoring up and down the street, kids laughing as they kicked a football around.

And then he heard it. "That's it, Michael!" Whipping his head back around, Rory spotted the Time Lord in amongst what he'd first dismissed as a group of little kids playing in the park. He'd discarded his jacket somewhere and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows, but it most certainly was his friend.

Rory walked onto the field as he tried to get his breathing under control. "Doc—er, John!"

OoO

It had been perhaps half an hour since Amy had left, and he was absolutely bored out of his mind. The Doctor hardly understood it himself; years and years ago he'd been able to sit calmly in peace and quiet for hours on end. Somewhere in his brain he realized that this was likely pathetic, but while he had an extremely intelligent, scientific-based mind, he was fairly sure the sanity wire had come unplugged sometime by his third or fourth regeneration.

While the Time Lord could have easily started up the Wii to keep himself occupied, he was determined not to do so, if only to prove to Amy he did not need parameters set up for his usage of the thing. And also, with no one around to tell him to stop until Rory got home he felt he might end up lost in the addictive world of video games for good.

So with nothing electronic to do, no books to read, and no one to talk to, the Doctor stepped outside again. At least the outdoors wasn't as maddeningly quiet as the house. He let his feet carry him down the front walk and onto the sidewalk. It occurred to him then that he hadn't done much exploring of the area around Amy and Rory's home, not for himself.

Such an egregious error had to be corrected, and straightaway, if only to cure him of his boredom, and so the Doctor set out with this in mind. Unfortunately, the outdoor suburban landscape did not provide him with many distractions either, and he soon found himself lost in his thoughts. That was, until he quite literally tripped into a face-to-face meeting with the pavement.

The offending object that initiated this little get together turned out to be a football when he pushed himself off the ground to get a better look. Rolling over so that he could sit up properly, the Time Lord rubbed at his nose, checking to make sure the cartilage had not been damaged again. "Now how did you get here?" He asked the spherical toy, picking it up.

It was at this point that he registered the little giggles managing to escape his previously unnoticed audience. The Doctor glanced up a sloping grassy hill to the park he had just been passing, to see a group of about ten children, primary school age at the earliest, watching him. Some appeared apprehensive as he studied them while others laughed to see the adult sprawled on the sidewalk.

"Are you ok, Mister?" One girl called down, part of the nervous half.

He smiled, leaping to his feet. "Oh, just fine. Takes more than a football to get the better of me."

"Can we have our ball back?" One of the gigglers asked impatiently. The girl shot him a look, so the child glanced down at his toes as he amended, "Sorry about making you fall. I was trying to kick the ball to Aidan, but he missed."

"I did not- you kicked it in the other direction!" The accused Aidan objected.

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did _not_!"

"Ah, it's fine, really you don't need to—" He tried in vain to intercede, but the children seemed happy to settle it in their own way.

"Did _too_!"

"Did NOT!"

The Doctor sighed, shaking his head at the rudimentary display of diplomacy occurring before him, dropped the ball from his arms, and punted it. It went sailing over their heads, landed on the field, bounced once, and rolled into the goal. The children were all silent for quite some time.

"There's your ball," he told them simply. "Good day!" And he turned to leave. But there was the sound of someone hurriedly running and sliding down a hill to follow him.

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait!" The first boy, whose name he had not learned yet, reached out and grasped his hand, tugging on it to pull him to a stop. He turned to see the young child staring up at him in awe. "How'd you _do_ that?"

"It's not so impressive," he shrugged.

"I can't even get it halfway down the field," the boy muttered at the ground, expression downcast.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" He finally decided, giving the hand in his own a squeeze before leading him up the hill. "Aidan, can you fetch the ball?" He asked the other boy who had spoken, and the child did so. "Now, what's your name?" He directed this at the one by his side.

"Michael."

"Well then, Michael," the Doctor said as Aidan returned with the football. He stepped back and gestured to it. "Let's see what you can do."

The child took a deep breath, nodded, and then ran at the thing while trying to kick it. His foot made contact and sent it rolling about a foot. Poor Michael looked about to cry.

"Now, now, it wasn't so bad," he hastened to console, having no desire to be surrounded by wailing children. "What you need to do is put some power behind it, and that requires a set-up, preparation," he lectured, waiting patiently for the small boy to stop sulking. "Take a step with the foot you're not kicking with, plant it firmly in the ground, _then_ kick the ball."

Michael's face scrunched up in concentration as he followed those instructions, but then it broke into a surprised grin as the ball traveled quite a ways down the field.

"I did it!"

"You did," he praised. Not to be outdone, another child, a girl this time, stepped forward.

"When _I_ kick the ball, it goes really far, but never where I want it to!"

He considered that a moment. "Alright then, Michael could you fetch the ball?" The boy ran off as he turned his attention to his compatriot. "And your name is?"

"Rebecca," she announced promptly.

"Well Rebecca, pretend for me you are going to kick the ball." She did so, giving a strong swing, but the Doctor shook his head. "The problem is you're kicking with your toes. If you use the inside of your foot, it gives you more control." He stopped the real ball with his foot as Michael had passed it to him. "Thank you, Michael. Now you try, Rebecca."

So she did, and it stopped very near the goal.

"Yay!"

He felt his smile might split his face at the jubilant scene. "Ok then, good luck with your game—"

"But- you can't leave!" Michael exclaimed. The Doctor blinked.

"…I can't?" He asked, bewildered. He was certain a child had never told him he couldn't go somewhere. This was new. "Er, why not?"

The children looked stumped by this until Aidan piped up, "We need a goalie!" They all nodded vigorously. Well they had him there; he made eleven, which would be perfect for two teams of five with one impartial goalie.

"I suppose I could. I mean, I wasn't really doing anything," he reasoned out loud. And at least if he was goalie he wouldn't have to move much. He wasn't really dressed for running up and down a field. So the Doctor got in position in front of the goal.

Rather ironically, the Time Lord quickly lost track of time, busy keeping track of who he'd already let score, and giving and demonstrating advice. After an hour of begging, Michael had finally convinced him to show them how to bounce the ball on their knee, and the boy was trying it out. He bounced it once, twice. "That's it, Michael!"

"Doc—er, John!"A familiar voice hailed him from the edge of the field, and he glanced up to see his friend, still in nurse's scrubs.

"Rory!"

"I've been looking for you everywhere," the other man scolded as he joined them in the grass, and the Doctor scratched at his cheek sheepishly as he noticed how low the sun had sunk in the sky already. "Couldn't have bothered to leave a note?"

"Sorry Rory, I hadn't thought I'd be out so late when I left."

"It's fine," Rory dismissed easily enough, whatever irritation he had draining as he looked down at the children watching the two of them. "Er, I think your parents are going to want you home soon. It's nearly dinner time."

"Aw…"

"Yes!"

"I'm hungry!"

"But mum's just making leftovers."

The group of kids dispersed, the tallest boy Kenny dribbling his ball back home. Alone on the field now, Rory shot him an amused glance.

"I was taking a walk and one of them kicked the ball my way. I was only returning it," he defended.

"Right," the nurse replied, shaking his head. The Doctor followed his friend home where they ordered take out, both too tired to really cook anything. They talked and watched the telly, normal bloke stuff as Amy had once coined it, before the nurse turned in for the night, needing to get some sleep in before his morning shift. He spent some time in the TARDIS, rewiring some loose odds and ends.

The next morning he made his friend breakfast before work, watching him pull out of the driveway and head off. Sighing, the Doctor made his way into the sitting room. Nothing for it but the Wii today.

Just as he turned the white box on, however, his ears picked up the hesitant pitter-patter of a fist on the front door. So, curiosity prevailing over addiction, he went back to the door and pulled it open to be met with ten very familiar children, Kenny holding his football tucked under one arm.

"Hello," he greeted brightly. "Er, what are you all doing here?"

"We're playing football again," Rebecca told him. "Want to come?"

He opened and shut his mouth a few times, astounded. "But- you- I really shouldn't—"

"You don't have to be goalie the whole time if you don't want," Michael offered, obviously misinterpreting his misgivings.

"That's not- I meant- I—oh well," he finally gave in, failing to come up with any sort of reason why not that meant anything to him. And he really did want the company.

Around midday he looked up as he was running the ball toward the goal to see Rory in t-shirt, shorts, and trainers walking onto the field.

"Might as well make it a real game," was the only explanation the nurse gave. "Two teams, two goals."

The Doctor grinned.

OoO

Amy felt a smile growing on her face as she watched increasingly familiar scenery pass by the car window. While she'd had a great time catching up with her parents and Aunt Sharon, she was glad to be home again.

Her positive attitude was further helped by the fact that no emergencies had occurred in her absence, to her knowledge. Just to make sure, she'd called Rory yesterday afternoon.

"No, everything's great, we've been keeping busy," her husband had said, although she had frowned in confusion at the background noises of children's shrieks and laughter.

"Did you to go to the zoo or something?" She had asked.

"What? Oh, um, no- we're just—"

The voices she's heard under Rory rose to a crescendo of cheers suddenly, yet she'd distinctly heard one voice yell, "No fair, he's on the phone!"

"Rory—"

"Listen, Amy, nothing bad's happening, the universe is safe, and we will see you tomorrow," he had reassured. "Love you."

"Love you, too," she'd answered.

So now she had to wait until her aunt dropped her off back home to find out the reason for her husband's evasive behavior. Or maybe not…

"Aunt Sharon, stop the car," she ordered abruptly and the woman braked.

"Amy, what on Earth is it?" The older woman demanded, but she wasn't paying attention. She had found the reason.

The car had been passing by the local park in their neighborhood that also contained a field. Its current occupants were a group of kids…and her husband and best friend.

Grinning widely, Amy got out of the car, opening the back door and removing her bag. "I'll just get out here, you can go home," she explained to her perplexed aunt. "Thanks for the ride, love you!" She slammed the car door shut and walked onto the field.

It appeared to be the Doctor's team's turn to start, and the Time Lord was running up to the ball to kick it off. But Rory gave the unexpected command, "Now!" and a mob of five children—including the goalie who seemed to excited to stay at his post—swarmed the alien, leaving her husband free to head off with the ball. The Doctor's team valiantly attempted to fend off the cheating warrior, but with their leader being mercilessly wrestled to the ground they were no match for the Last Centurion. Rory kicked it into the goal.

Everyone was laughing, even the Doctor as he struggled to push a boy sitting triumphantly on his stomach. "_That_ was incredibly underhanded, Rory Williams! You have no idea what you've done," he continued in an almost warning tone if not for the laughs still escaping him. "There are no rules now!" Rory just laughed and attempted to help the other man to stand, ending up in the wrestle-pile. The remaining five kids soon joined in.

Finally, Amy said loudly, "I can't decide whether this is the most pathetic or the most adorable thing I've seen in my life." Her boys froze on the ground, snapping their heads up to look at her with a mixture of shock and horror.

"A- Amy!" The Doctor greeted, sitting upright and causing the boy on him to roll off. "We didn't realize- Is it really that late?"

"Yep," she replied simply, her grin turning to a smirk as both men were rather red-faced in embarrassment now.

"Um, this really isn't what you think—" Rory started, but she interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

"It isn't? Because I think I just saw my husband cheat in a game of football for kids." Greatly enjoying their discomfort, she carefully placed her bag down, walked over to the football which one of the children had brought back to the center of the field, and threw them one more look over her shoulder. Then she swung her leg back and kicked the ball, sending it soaring uninterrupted into Rory's team's goal.

"No rules!" She declared, throwing her arms in the air. The children were all quick to jump up with a rousing cry, running over to join her. The Doctor and Rory shared a glance, their faces slowly cracking into grins. They weren't that far behind the kids.

**Super fluffy! And long! Yaaaaay! So yeah, that was sort of to make up for the not updating in forever. Thanks for waiting it out, guys, it means a lot to me. So I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks for reading, and please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Ok, so after an egregiously long hiatus, I am finally updating. I'm so, so sorry, guys. It's been a rough month, schedule-wise. Hopefully this chapter will make up for my slowness. Thanks once again for the overwhelmingly amazing support, and enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Amy decided to risk poking her head into the sitting room for a minute. Sometimes, when the Doctor was playing Wii tennis, it was honestly too entertaining to stop watching. The Time Lord got more into it than anyone she knew.

But when she did pass by the room and take a peek, the sight she was met with wasn't what she expected. Instead of her friend clutching the remote in his hand, perched on the balls of his feet, and looking ridiculously disheveled for a video game, he was sitting calmly on the couch, watching what appeared to be the news.

"Doctor?"

He twisted a bit in his seat to look back at her. "Yes, Amy?"

"Er, what are you doing?" If he wasn't engaged in his newfound addiction, the Doctor rarely touched their television.

"Oh, well, I was going to play a couple rounds," he told her, and she had to grin a little. Perhaps a couple hundred would have been more accurate. "But then I saw this man being interviewed on the telly—says he's been studying the cubes. A self-proclaimed expert." The disdain with which he spoke the words indicated to Amy how little the mad scientist believed that. Still, she walked around the couch and plopped down next to him, giving much more attention to the television screen than before.

"Really? What's he saying about it, then?"

"Hardly anything," the Time Lord grumbled. "Apparently he's planning some sort of demonstration or lecture in London tomorrow."

"He is?" Well that certainly sounded interesting. But for once it was her who was more enthusiastic than him.

"Oh, I doubt anything will happen, Pond. Nothing affects these cubes, and definitely nothing you could find on Earth- you heard Kate."

"Yeah," she had to agree, "but it might be worth checking out, you know? We'll get a laugh out of it, at least."

"That's true," he seemed to be mulling it over, and so Amy sat there as patiently as she could. "Well why not? No harm in having a look for ourselves. Er, that is, if you want to—"

"Of course I'm going with you," she interrupted, knowing just what he was going to ask. "I suggested it. It'll be fun."

"Well then, you and me in London tomorrow, Amy Pond." She grinned back at him and rose, feeling immensely satisfied and proud of herself when her friend finally turned on the video game she knew he'd been craving. He could puzzle about the cubes the next day.

That evening she was taking the dishes out to the sink for Rory to wash. Her husband turned to her as she set the last glasses on the counter and said, "So you're going to that thing in London? Why?"

"Well, it is about the cubes," she pointed out, but knew that wasn't really what he was asking. She sighed, lowering her voice as she continued, "I'm just worried, Rory. I mean, he's been here for a while; he's got to be getting bored."

"I guess so," he agreed.

"So, hopefully this'll keep him interested. And I'm interested in it, too."

"Alright, well let me know what this expert has to say about them," he requested.

"Of course," she replied, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek. She then headed off to allow him to complete his chore and her to find the Doctor. She'd learned by now he had an incorrigible habit of eavesdropping and wanted to start on damage control if he had been listening in. But she found him lying on top of the covers of his bed, arms folded behind his head. She smiled, leaning on the doorframe, almost unable to break the calm, quiet atmosphere. "Hey, so we're still going to this thing tomorrow?"

"Hm?" He blinked and raised his head off the pillow to look at her. "Oh, yes, yes. Would you prefer travelling by TARDIS or the normal means?"

"Maybe normal would be better, Doctor," she suggested. "Not sure we want that sciencey guy on the news to find a time machine."

"That is a very good point. Well then, I suggest you turn in early so that we may embark in the morning." He nodded once and let his head drop back.

"Ok. Goodnight, Doctor."

"Goodnight, Amy."

It still took her a couple hours to get to sleep, starting to feel that long-buried adrenaline kicking in again. Just what might they learn from this presentation? Was it just a joke or something more?

OoO

After a somewhat stressful bus ride—they spent most of the trip bickering over who was reading the directions to the pavilion right—they joined the queue lining up to be seated for the outdoor lecture. Amy wasn't impressed with the crowd overall; they all seemed to fall under the category of slightly nerdy enthusiast. Although, she had to wonder what sort of social category someone would classify her and Rory as. They weren't the most normal of people themselves. She didn't worry about the Doctor- there simply wasn't a social category out there to define him.

When she began to stride down an aisle between the seats, however, the Time Lord grabbed her arm and tugged her back. "What? You don't want a good seat? There's a couple up front there."

He shook his head as she pointed them out. "We're really only here as observers, Pond, no sense in making someone else sit in the back."

"But Doctor, this _is_ my time period. We don't have to worry about 'interfering'. Not like we ever do," she grinned at the last part, but he still was set on sitting in the back.

"Yes, it's your time period, Amy. That doesn't make the Rules any less important. Whatever actions you take will affect the rest of your life here. Besides," he added as they sat down, "it's not exactly _my_ time period, is it? I have to worry wherever I go. I _should_ worry."

"Hey, don't get down on yourself," she chided, poking him in the side. That was not the purpose of coming here today. "People can't expect you to just watch- they don't even want you to. But we don't have to do anything right now, just listen." He smiled down at her and nodded once before returning his attention to the front. She did so as well, and the murmur of voices began to die down.

A man who she recognized from the news footage yesterday shuffled up the stairs to the podium on the little stage. He had deep brown hair that seemed to have proved stubborn in efforts to comb it, more than a bit of stubble, and appeared rather uncomfortable in a suit and tie.

He cleared his throat more than a few times, loosened the tie, swallowed, and tapped the microphone once. "Um, hi. My name is Rod Hayden. Thank you all for coming today…"

She realized it probably spoke to just how simple and unfocused she could be, but Amy tuned out almost completely after that. In her defense, it wasn't as if their speaker was the most riveting. Honestly, even if it was his own work, his own research, couldn't he have found someone else to present it?

By the slight frown to the Doctor's lips, she could tell she wasn't really missing much, anyway. The alien even rolled his eyes once or twice, which showed he hardly agreed with a word that was being said. Yet he did not speak or object to the nonsense that was being fed to them.

That was fine, because someone else did. Hayden had just paused for breath in the middle of a sentence when a hand shot up in the front row of the audience. "Excuse me, Mr. Hayden?"

The presenter blinked in sheer bewilderment for a moment, mouth hanging open before he shook his head and collected himself. "Er, yes?"

The woman—for it was a woman's voice who had called out—stood so as to be better seen and heard. From the back, Amy could see she had brown hair that hung loose to about her shoulders, was dressed smartly in shirtsleeves, vest, and trousers, and held a pen and pad of paper in her hands. "All this theory is well and good, sir," she began politely, though by her tone Amy doubted the sincerity. "But what exactly is your proof? What tests have you conducted on the cubes to back up your ideas with facts? I'm sure we all would be interested to hear about that."

What Amy was more interested in, however, was the way in which the Doctor had tensed up and ducked his head down as the woman had turned to sweep a hand over the people seated behind her. She got a glimpse of a kind-looking, older face, eyes bright and sharp.

"Uh, my- my proof, ma'am?"

"Yes. And it's Sarah Jane Smith, investigative journalist."

The rest of the audience were all beginning to murmur, most sounding disgruntled or disapproving towards the clearly fumbling man on the stage. Amy felt the Doctor's hand slip into hers.

"I think it's time to go, Pond."

"Not yet," she disagreed, wanting to watch more of this confrontation. Ms. Smith carried herself with confidence, and though she was the one standing on the ground, it somehow still seemed like Hayden was inferior. Some people had in fact started to leave, while others were standing only to add their own demands for evidence of some kind. The amateur scientist, or theorist really, looked increasingly panicked until simply fleeing around down the sidesteps and around the back wall.

The majority of the people gave frustrated and outraged exclamations, turning to go in an angry huff. "Ah, well, see what I mean, Pond? Now we really should be leaving before the crowds get too bad."

"Oh come on, that man just ran off! Shouldn't we see what he was really up to?" She pointed out. He continued to usher her out of their row.

"I'm sure Sarah Jane has that well in hand—"

"Bit early to be on first name basis there, Raggedy Man," she pointed out with just the slightest hint of suspicion. What about this woman was making the Doctor so eager to leave? He was struggling to come up with a response, so she took the opportunity to turn into the aisle in the opposite direction that he wanted to go. "It'll only take a couple minutes!" She darted in between a few people, heading to the back wall, knowing he would give chase.

"Amy!"

What she found almost made her laugh. The investigative journalist had Hayden pinned to the wall with her gaze alone, practically conducting an interrogation. "What was your real purpose giving this lecture? It's obviously some kind of ploy. Are you connected to the cubes somehow and is this the trap?"

"N-no!" The man stammered. "Listen, I'm an unemployed University grad who just needed a little money. Those people will pay to hear all kinds of crazy stuff! I didn't mean anything by it, honest!"

The woman sighed, suddenly looking much less overbearing and much more sympathetic. "Oh, well. It's a rather dishonest way of earning money- but no harm came from it. Off with you, then." Hayden slumped against the wall with relief before taking off. "And don't let me catch you doing this again!" Ms. Smith called after his retreating form, shaking her head with a light chuckle.

Amy couldn't help letting a little giggle escape herself, and the older woman's eyes landed on her. They held each other's gaze for a moment before both laughed.

"Can you believe the nerve of some people?" The investigator asked.

"I don't know, I've seen crazier things," she shrugged, still grinning. A smile stretched Ms. Smith's face as well and those bright eyes sparkled.

"So have I. What are you doing at this farce of a presentation?"

"Right now? Um, sort of playing hide-and-seek," she answered truthfully, and the brunette raised an eyebrow. Thankfully, she didn't have to elaborate.

Right on cue, her friend's voice called out, "Amelia Pond, if you're going to be so impossible, then I—" She turned just in time to see him run around the back wall and skid to a halt. "Oh!"

She glanced back over her shoulder at the woman he was staring at, whose smile had somehow widened, yet taken on a sort of softer quality to it. "Hello again, Doctor."

A little quirk of the lips completely transformed his face from surprised to happy as he replied, "Hello again, Sarah Jane."

Amy had the odd sense of being an outside observer totally removed from the situation, like she wasn't even there and they were looking right through her at each other. That was, until Ms. Smith indicated her with a nod of the head and asked, "So is this one of the famous 'Ponds' I've heard about?"

"The original," he informed her, a sort of pride coloring his voice, and yet there was a tenseness about him that she noticed, as if he was waiting for something.

"So, how do you know the Doctor?" She decided to ask, to break the silence if anything, though she certainly was curious. So far, they'd met the immortal Jack Harkness and Rory had gotten to meet Dr. Martha Jones, both more recent friends of the Time Lord. Not that she was trying to make assumptions, but Amy had a feeling by her age that Sarah Jane Smith had to be an older friend.

"Oh my, well that is a story too long for one afternoon," the other woman laughed. "But suffice to say he's my oldest friend."

"In more ways than one, I bet," Amy joked, sending them both into giggles again. She glanced back at the alien in question, who seemed put out that he was the one they were making fun of—though she felt he ought to expect that from her by now—yet also strangely relieved as his eyes darted back and forth between them. She and Sarah Jane exchanged a glance before they turned together to face him, hands on their hips.

"Something on your mind, Doctor?" She inquired.

"You don't usually hesitate to say it," Sarah Jane added. He jumped, tugging at his bowtie as he took in their twin expressions.

"Oh, well, not really, no- I mean, I suppose I'm just happy, is all. That this is…going well." He waved a hand in their direction at the end, and Amy raised an eyebrow.

"What, you mean us talking?"

"Exactly."

"Did you not think it would go well?" She couldn't help questioning next. Was he implying she couldn't talk to people properly or something?

"No! Well- yes. Sort of?" He cringed at the glare she leveled him with. "It's just, the last time I introduced someone to Sarah Jane it didn't. Go well, I mean."

The journalist actually turned a little pink, glancing away and muttering, "Well, I'll admit it was a bit silly." She raised her face and appeared to gather herself. "But you've got to realize I've learned since then."

"Of course you have," he hastened to reassure.

"Then there shouldn't be a problem!"

The Time Lord opened his mouth, paused, seemed to recognize he had nothing to reply with, and shut it. "I suppose not," he mumbled after a moment.

Amy had to wonder just what occasion her friend was recalling that had made him so determined to avoid a woman who was clearly dear to him. "Hang on," she realized suddenly, "is _this_ why you wanted to sit in the back? So I wouldn't meet her?"

"Er…"

"You were hiding from me?" Somehow the older woman came across as both offended and yet not surprised at all. "Of all the childish things, Doctor."

"Why'd you agree to coming to this if you thought she'd be here?" She demanded.

"I didn't think she'd be here!" He burst out, seeking to defend himself against them both. "Not for something so obviously a waste of time, even if it did have something to do with the cubes—" He gaped, as though coming to a great conclusion. Pointing an almost accusing finger at the woman, he exclaimed, "You knew! You knew I'd be here, you had to!"

"I only thought that you _might_ show up, since it was about the cubes," she hedged. At the frown he wore, she amended, "Martha _might_ have called."

"Of course she did," the alien groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead.

"And she was quite put out when she found out I'd seen this you already," the brunette reprimanded, and he had the grace to duck his head this time. "And is it wrong of me—of any of us—to want to see my friend? You seem to think we are all on call for when you need us, Doctor, but a friendship requires work and maintenance from both sides."

Amy truly wanted to be selfish and stay, but she recognized that this was the kind of conversation the two needed to have together and privately. Sure, this was _her_ Raggedy Doctor, but by the abject guilt and shame written across his face, she could plainly tell her had been Sarah Jane's Doctor _first_. It would be wrong of her not to respect that, and would only prove him right about revisiting old friends with new ones.

"I think I'm just going to take a walk around the place, let you two catch up a bit," she announced brightly, trying to make it less awkward than it really was.

Sarah Jane offered a polite smile and nod, and as she turned the corner the Doctor managed a, "Don't wander off too far, Pond." It was half-hearted at best and she had to force herself to keep walking. How did a twelve-hundred year old alien make it sound like she was abandoning a child?

But he was such a child when it came to these things. Emotions. Friendships. That they kept running into old friends of his was a surprise and a miracle, one she was increasingly thankful for as she became ever more aware just how much he needed people.

OoO

He risked a look up through the fringe of his floppy hair at the woman he'd known for so long. She was observing him coolly, but not unkindly and he took heart from that.

"Amy, uh, has a habit of wandering off," he attempted to break the ice that had frozen over this encounter. "You all do," he chuckled weakly, and her lips twitched up into a smile.

"Yes." She sighed and added, "But when you wander off, we don't ever find you again. Unless we're lucky."

"I'm sorry," he breathed, truly feeling remorse. Sarah Jane, this beautifully kind woman- how could he keep disappointing her like this? Disappointing them all like this. For that was her point, he could see that. Even though he'd had his reasons, just as he'd explained to Jack, that didn't make it right.

"I know you are," she was saying softly. "You always are." Here she was, forgiving him. He could let it drop right now, he knew she would, and they could move on to some other topic. The painful ones could be left for some other say, left to catch up and find him when he least expected.

But the Doctor was done running away. He'd decided that this summer, this one single summer on Earth that he was choosing to settle in.

"It doesn't change things, Sarah." She met his gaze with wide eyes, but he made himself continue. "It doesn't change what's happened. What I've done and not done. I always mean to come back. One day."

"It must be hard choosing that day," she spoke, taking his hand and he held hers gladly. "I understand that it's hard to come back, Doctor. I do."

"I never answered your question." She blinked and so he elaborated, "When we met again in that school. You hadn't seen me since Aberdeen and you asked why I couldn't have come back for you. I never said."

She smiled softly in remembrance. "I figured it out on my own. The temptation's too great, for you and me. If you had come back a year, two years, ten years later, even- I would have gone with you. You were my life. And I never would have had one of my own, not like I do now."

He squeezed her hand. "And what a life, eh? Saving the world all on your own with a great group of kids—I hope Clyde's not sore about the whole transported-to-a-wasteland thing." She giggled a bit at this and so he decided that the teenager likely was not. "I hope I've said it before now, Sarah Jane Smith, but you are amazing. And I am so proud."

She was almost beaming, though he could tell she was trying her hardest to remain modest about it. "Thank you," she indulged in his praise for a moment.

"I am trying it, you know," he said abruptly, wanting _her_ praise, wanting her to know how much he was trying for all their sakes. "They don't always travel with me, Amy and Rory. I pick them up on occasion, when I miss them. And I'm staying with them right now, in their home, for a bit." He knew now she wouldn't feel jealous, knew that it had simply been the sudden shock and overwhelming rush of emotions that had caused her to clash initially with Rose.

"That's quite the change for you," she remarked, seemingly impressed. "What convinced you?"

"Mostly that you're right. You, Rose, Martha, everyone—it was always one or the other. You couldn't travel in the TARDIS and live normal lives on Earth. It's impossible, I know that. I could never bring myself to let any of you go unless it was completely, and none of you could bring yourselves to leave until you absolutely had to. But the Ponds…somehow they've managed it. They're not like any people I've ever met before."

"I must admit, Amy struck me as different," Sarah Jane nodded. "She's not as in awe of you as others I've seen. As I was."

"That's why," he stated, so pleased that the investigator had nailed it completely. "That's why I can do it. I feel safe, trying this, with the Ponds."

Amy was making a giant loop around them it seemed, for they caught sight of her red hair across the open field that spread out on this side of the pavilion. She was strolling along, turning her head this way and that to take everything in, just as she might on a brand new planet in an entirely different time. It made him smile to watch, and he glanced down to find Sarah Jane watching him.

"Why is it safe?" She prompted gently, and his smile turned to one ever so slightly of sadness.

"I'm not her world. Not anymore."

And his wonderful Sarah Jane Smith—she understood. Before he knew it, he was wrapped in her warm embrace, one he was so thankful for. Perhaps Amy had been waiting for a moment like this to signal that all was well between them, for he heard a Scottish voice not long after.

"So, everything worked out then?" He pulled back, taking care to blink rapidly a few times before letting either woman see his face. Sarah Jane still patted him lightly on the arm a few times. Reassuring him that even if he didn't want her to know, she did.

"Yes, yes, all is well, Pond," he responded, returning to his usual confidence and cheer. The redhead seemed satisfied.

"That's good. He can be a bit rubbish at the human stuff, but we can't hold it against him too much, yeah?" She directed the question at the journalist, who grinned back.

"No, we can't. It was wonderful meeting you, Amy, but I've really got to be on my way home." She was checking her watch as she said so, and he glanced at his as well.

"Oh, is it really that time? Rory's expecting us back for lunch, isn't he?" He turned quizzically to Amy, but it was Sarah Jane who replied.

"Then you'd best be heading back, too. And I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet your husband, Amy." She had finished gathering her things, like the bag she had placed on the ground earlier, presumably when talking to Hayden or Amy.

The red-haired woman waved a dismissive hand. "Don't apologize. We'll just have to get together some other time; Rory can meet you and I can meet Martha."

"That's a lovely idea!" The brunette commended, and he found himself agreeing. Suddenly the thought of seeing old friends again was not as scary or dreaded as before.

"We'll be in touch, then," he decided, moving aside so that Amy could shake hands with the investigator, then stepping forward once more to give her a final hug. "Till next time, my Sarah Jane," he murmured in her ear.

"It's not goodbye," she returned just as quietly, and he smiled into her hair. Releasing her, he walked backwards until he was side by side with Amy. Giving one final wave, Sarah Jane turned and left for her car and 13 Bannerman Road.

"I'd like to get to know her better, next time," his friend remarked, "But for now, let's go home." He nodded and followed her to the bus stop.

Home…it was strange, how comfortable he was with that. And yet, he had to wonder; he felt like he was taking a step in the right direction, staying with these two unbelievable humans. But had his old fears really been unfounded all these years.

The Doctor wasn't Amy's world, or Rory's world. But the Ponds were his.

**At last! I have finished the chapter! I am so incredibly happy, you have no idea. But I also feel indescribably guilty for the long wait. So I made this one extra long, just to try and make up for it. At any rate, yay Sarah Jane! I refuse to accept that she's gone—until they acknowledge it on the show, it isn't cannon in my world! I feel awful requesting feedback after taking forever on this, but if you could, let me know what you think. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Ok, it's definitely been more than long enough since I updated this one. Even though I'm excited to see and write for Clara, I'm not giving the Ponds up that easily! Thanks once again for all your feedback, and enjoy the next chapter!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Rory was reheating leftovers in the microwave after coming home from a particularly late shift. Of course, their resident Time Lord was still awake; he could hear the alien bouncing around on his feet in the sitting room, likely on round hundred-something-or-other of Wii Tennis. When he'd changed out of his work scrubs and into his nightclothes, Amy had been awake as well, typing an article with a fast-approaching deadline. He'd given her a quick kiss before returning downstairs to make himself something to eat. He was certain their house was the only one lit up on their entire street.

It would be a dim beacon, however, as the thunderstorm that had started that evening raged around them, wind howling and rain pounding the windows. Listening to the fierce storm, he worried for a moment if the TARDIS would be alright out there in the middle of it. Immediately he realized what a foolish thought it was. They'd traveled the Universe in that box and survived countless crash landings, what was a little storm?

He watched the seconds tick down on their little microwave. _Five, four, three_—

Then he was plunged into darkness. He heard two yelps of surprise, and then blinked as a flash of lightning illuminated the darkened house.

"Uh, guys, I think we lost power," he called out.

Somebody entered the kitchen; by the heavier steps and more masculine silhouette he guessed it was the Doctor. "Really, Rory, what gave you that idea?"

"Everything turned off," he deadpanned, just as he heard Amy carefully making her way down the stairs.

"You both alright?"

"Yes," they chorused.

"Good. I'll get some candles, but then I need to get back to work." She slipped past them into the hall to get their supply of candles. Rory, deciding that somewhat warm food was better than nothing, took the leftovers from the microwave and sat down to eat.

"Does this happen often, power outages?" The Doctor inquired curiously.

He shrugged. "Not often. Every once in a while."

Though he couldn't see to be certain, he had a feeling the alien's nose was scrunched up in distaste. "How dreadful."

"Oh, well, it's not so bad," he tried to argue. "I mean, it's sort of new, isn't it?" Hoping to entice the alien's interest, because Rory did not want to deal with a sulking Time Lord in the dark, he looked back up trying once again to read the other's expression.

Fortunately, Amy chose that moment to shuffle back in and place a candle on the table next to him. She struck a match and lit both it and the one she was holding. "If you need any more they're in the hall closet," she informed them both before going back upstairs.

Rory continued to eat, chancing glances up at the still-standing man who appeared almost troubled. "Well…what should I do?"

He stopped, the fork halfway to his mouth. "Er, what do you mean?"

"You and Amy tell me to play Wii Tennis when you're busy and I'm bored, but the power's off." A thought seemed to occur to him as he asked, "Do you want me to try and get your power back on? I could have a look at the fuse box or—"

"No, no, that's alright," he hastened to intervene, not wanting to be responsible if his friend accidentally electrocuted himself messing with something in a lightning storm. "Besides, a tree might have just fallen on the wires or something, so it wouldn't help."

"Oh, yes, you're probably right."

"Uh…maybe—I mean, I won't go to bed till Amy does, so I dunno…we could play a game, or something?" It ended up sounding like a question more than a suggestion by the end, simply because he wasn't sure what the other man's response might be. He couldn't help but feel sometimes like he was still an afterthought, as untrue as he knew it was.

"What sort of game?" Was the question, and he felt a bit more confident.

"Cards would probably be easiest with the lighting we have. There's a pack in the sitting room drawer."

The Doctor went to retrieve it as he finished his meal, and he heard his friend call, "Poker?"

"No," he stated flatly. The Doctor returned pouting, but he wasn't having any of it. "Don't even try that face; River says you two play, and I know she cheats so you have to, too. And I'm a terrible liar."

The Time Lord sighed, dropping the innocent façade and asked, "Well what do you want to play, Mr. Pond?"

"Er…" he had to think hard about that. Most card games were about deception and sleight of hand, both things he was dreadful at. His opponent for the night, however, was practically a master. What game was there that had the least possibility for cheating? "Go Fish?"

OoO

Amy rubbed at her tired eyes, doing her best to remain focused on the screen in front of her, intensely bright in comparison to the rest of the room. She really shouldn't have procrastinated on this article, but the Doctor had decided he'd wanted to take the three of them—as it had been one of Rory's rare days off—out to the park, and she hadn't had the heart to refuse. After all, what was more important: a silly deadline or the chance to spend time with family? This slow invasion was truly a precious gift.

He hadn't known her article was due soon, of course, or he would have scrapped the idea. So she just hadn't said anything about it. The day hadn't been a complete waste work-wise, either, as she'd had time to sketch out a few ideas on a spare napkin when he'd been roped into yet another game of football with the neighborhood kids.

Still, she'd have to type through the night to be able to send it in on time, so she did her best to stifle a little yawn, rolling her shoulders. Five minutes later her fingers were hovering over the keys and hadn't moved, and she stared blearily at the document.

"Ok, maybe a little nap," she muttered to herself, leaning back against the pillows. Amy didn't even feel herself drift off…

"No way, I asked you for kings last time!" The exclamation startled her awake, and she shook her head trying to clear it. How long had she been out?

"And then I drew one, you asked for threes, and I asked for your kings," she could just hear her husband patiently explain. Amy sighed, turning back to the black screen of her laptop.

Had it gone into sleep mode? She pressed the power button and waited, growing increasingly nervous when nothing happened. Then she remembered- she hadn't charged it for most of the day, and she couldn't now because of the power.

"Oh no!" She gasped, one hand flying up to her mouth. Too late, she realized it had been too loud—loud enough for a certain alien with enhanced hearing, anyway.

"Doctor, what—" Rory's voice started in confusion downstairs, but Amy slapped a hand to her forehead at the sound of thundering footsteps on the stairs. Soon enough, she was shielding her eyes from the bright green glare of the sonic.

"Amyareyoualrightwhathappened?" Was the jumble of words too fast for her already exhausted mind to really process as the Time Lord set about scanning the room.

"It's nothing, Doctor," she tried her best not to groan, though the shadow of her husband's worried face appearing in the doorway behind their friend didn't help her embarrassment and frustration at the two overly protective men. "My laptop died."

"Oh," he replied, finally shutting off the sonic and tucking it away in a pocket. In the flickering candlelight, he made his way to her bedside and sat on the edge next to her. "Well, I'm very sorry."

"Shut up," she snickered, poking him in the shoulder, "you know what I meant."

"Did you finish the article?" Rory inquired, joining them, and she shook her head in dismay.

"I was getting close. But now I can't charge the stupid thing cause of the power."

"Well, what about the sonic, Doctor? Could you, I don't know, boost the battery back up or something?" It was a rather brilliant suggestion in her opinion, but she was disappointed to see the hesitant look on the Time Lord's face.

"Probably, but you might lose anything you haven't saved. It'd be like a reboot of the computer, see?"

"That would be most of the article," she admitted sheepishly, glancing away.

"The best thing to do would be to plug the laptop in and charge it," the alien continued to lecture, and she rolled her eyes.

"I _can't_, Doctor, there aren't any socket to plug into with no power—"

"There are electrical sockets in the TARDIS," the man pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but she snapped her head back up to look at him. "Er, what?" He prompted under her intense gaze.

"You're telling us that we've been sitting in the dark while the TARDIS has had full power _the whole bloody time_?"

"Well, yes."

"Doctor," she growled, and he leaned away.

"You couldn't have mentioned that? Really?" Rory piped up, his eyes raised to the ceiling as he shook his head.

"I didn't think it would matter. I know how you humans can be about getting wet—you're like cats! Worse really, I've met some cat-people before, and they are much more reasonable than some humans about the whole thing—"

"We're going," she cut across his rant, slipping out from under the covers and shutting the laptop.

"Right," Rory agreed, getting up and heading downstairs. "I'll get a bag to keep the laptop from getting wet."

"Er, sorry, Amy," her friend was still sitting on the bed, looking down at his shoes. "I guess I just assumed—"

"Doctor, when are you going to learn Rory and I aren't normal people?" She admonished, and she could just make out the hint of an abashed flush to his cheeks.

"I know- you're Ponds," he replied. "I suppose I thought you'd want to stay in your house, your home."

"Hey," she said softly, crawling over to the side of the bed and swinging her legs around to sit beside him. "The TARDIS is home, too. It doesn't matter to us where we are."

"She likes that, you know," he commented, still not meeting her eyes and picking at one of the blankets. "Thinks of you as- as family."

She grinned. "Well good, cause it's mutual." A pleased smile came to his face as he finally looked at her, and she took his hand. "Let's get going, Raggedy Man." Leaning over to blow out the candle, they stumbled down the stairs together in the dark.

Rory was waiting with a bag for her computer, and as she slipped it in he remarked, "It doesn't look like the storm's let up much. Suppose we should just make a dash for it."

"Agreed," the Doctor nodded, and the moved as a group to the screen doors of the patio. The backyard, likely a muddy lake by now, was lit up every so often by lightning, and the muffled sound of thunder rumbled constantly. A short distance away was their safe haven, the bulb on top shining through. He put his hand on the handle, looking back at them. "Ready?"

"Always," she replied simply and he smirked, throwing the door open.

Amy was yanked out into wet and cold and dirt, wind covering over every other sound. The two hands entwined in hers were the only solid points of reference she had until at last she ran blindly into a bright, warm room. Rory slammed the door behind them and the noise of the storm was cut out entirely. In its place, the TARDIS hummed a happy, soothing welcome.

"Shoes off at the door!" The Doctor ordered, already kicking his boots off and slipping up to the main platform in soaking socks. Not really touching any controls, the Time Lord ran his hands along the console, eliciting another pleasurable hum from the ship. He proceeded to shake his hair out like a dog while Rory unlaced his trainers and Amy slipped off her shoes.

"We are actually sopping wet right now," her husband observed.

"Oh, there should be towels and a change of clothes in your room, I should think," their friend replied, and she smiled, tugging Rory towards the familiar corridor leading to their room.

"Thank you!" She called over her shoulder to both the ship and its pilot. Sure enough, stepping through into their room, they found it untouched aside from the additions he had spoken of. Amy wrapped her hair up in a towel and stripped out of her wet clothes, gladly exchanging them for warm, dry ones.

"Aren't you going to start charging the laptop?" Rory questioned, and she turned to see him pulling a shirt and then a hooded sweatshirt on over his head.

"Not in here; we can ask the Doctor if he wants to join us in the kitchen. I know I could use some tea after that." She jerked her thumb to indicate their dash out into the storm and he nodded. Taking her computer out of the now dripping bag, she and the nurse returned to the console room to find the Time Lord still standing before the console. He'd found the time to change as well, it appeared.

"Back already?"

"We thought we'd set up in the kitchen, make some tea or something?" Rory informed him.

"Ah, yes, sounds lovely."

She smiled even as she continued to shiver a bit. Sure, she was pretty much dry now, but that water had been like sheets of ice dumped on her. "Actually, have you got blankets? I'm still a bit chilly."

He frowned a bit in concern, holding up a finger to indicate that they wait while he searched under the platform. "Ha, remember these?" They heard his voice a couple of minutes later, and he returned carrying a few unforgettable ponchos.

Amy laughed even as her husband groaned. "Yes!" She cheered, reaching out to take the only non-plaid one, but recoiled as her fingers brushed his wrist. "You're freezing!" His skin was to the point where it almost felt scalding it was so cold, and only now did she register the way he'd set his jaw, which she suspected was a way to keep his from chattering too much.

"Am I?" Came the nonplussed response, most likely feigned. He did his best to shrug it off. "I've got a naturally lower body temperature than humans, Pond, it's not that big a deal. But I can raise it—"

"Don't give yourself a fever to make us feel better," Rory interrupted, taking one of the ponchos and forcing it over the Time Lord's head. Amy followed suit with her gray one. "You should have told us it wouldn't be good for you, we could have worked something out."

"Amy has to finish her article," he replied petulantly, passing the remaining poncho to her and shaking his head stubbornly when she offered it back to him. Sighing, she pulled it down over her own shoulders.

"I don't take precedence over everything," she lectured.

"Yes you do." He tapped her on the nose, his finger already lukewarm.

"Stop that," she scolded, grabbing his hand. "Come on, we're warming you up the normal way. She led them to the kitchen, guiding the Doctor to a chair and plugging the laptop in at last as Rory started a kettle. Soon enough, they each had a steaming mug, and Amy was making steady progress on the article. Their friend had only finished half of his before his head was resting on his arms, eyelids drifting shut and then snapping back open every so often.

"Wii Tennis that exhausting?" Rory joked, and the other made a passable attempt at shaking his head.

"No…a side-effect of the fever is drowsiness."

"Is another one loose lips cause you're usually a better liar than that," she quipped, softening the rebuke by reaching out and running a hand through the fringe hanging in his face. He snuggled deeper into his self-made pillow, affording her better access. "You should learn to listen to us," she said it almost sing-songy, unable to work up too much anger at the endearing sight.

"Mhm-hm." Was the sleepy murmur.

Amy allowed the warm smile to come to her face, leaning over and pressing a light kiss to his forehead. "Get some rest. Tomorrow it'll stop raining and we can go somewhere, yeah?"

"No more cards," he mumbled in agreement, pausing as a yawn escaped before adding, "the Nose is too good."

"I'm really not," her husband disagreed, taking a sip of his tea and smirking. "But somebody had to teach River how to cheat."

_That_ certainly woke the Doctor up.


	16. Chapter 16

**Ok, time for a new update! Thanks once again for all the fantastic reviews, you guys don't know how inspiring you are. Once again, an idea many of you have requested, though I'm not sure if this will make you happy…you'll see. Without further ado, the chapter.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Sixteen**

He almost wanted to die of shame. He was a Time Lord, he was supposed to have more dignity than this! But the fact was unavoidable; the Doctor had gotten lost in a shopping center. It was hardly his fault, especially since he hadn't even been the one to suggest this ridiculous outing. But they'd been sitting around the table having breakfast when Rory had opened his mouth.

"Dad's birthday is coming up," the nurse stated. And naive fool he was, the Doctor had perked up in excitement.

"Really? Are we throwing a party? Did you get him a present?"

"He doesn't really like big parties much," the other man had replied, before glancing away as he added, "and I haven't really found a gift for him yet."

Amy had given a drawn out sigh as she went to refill her tea mug. "That's because you've been searching in all the tiny little local shops. We'd have much better luck if we tried London."

And so Amy and Rory had decided to go into the city. Naturally they'd brought him along. As the doctor was an admittedly distractible person, all the bright storefronts and towering displays had had him turning this way and that trying to look at everything at once while still trying to keep up with the other two, who were walking through the place like ordinary people. It hadn't helped that Amy was using this as a shopping-in-general trip and had dragged them back and forth across the entire complex so that he couldn't even remember where the exit was.

He was pretty certain he had lost them in shoes—which store was beyond them—as it had been right next to hats. Honestly the Doctor was surprised they hadn't been more careful, knowing him.

"Hey, Amy, what do you think?" He'd plopped the silliest looking one on his head, just to get the biggest reaction out of her, but when he whirled around neither she nor Rory were anywhere to be seen. "Amy?" Placing the hat back, he'd peeked around both corners, hoping to just catch one of them walking away. "Rory?" No such luck. He was all alone.

Now here he was, wandering through aisles and turning his head not to look at merchandise, but to try and glimpse a familiar red head or long nose. Ultimately this was shaping up to be one of the more humiliating experiences in his attempt at Normal Life. But he would have preferred Amy and Rory calling him over the intercom to what happened next.

He hadn't meant to do it. He had _never_ meant to do this. But a flash of red in his peripheral vision had him spinning back around on his heel, only to trip over a rack, get shoved out of the way by a disgruntled shopper's cart, and quite literally fall backwards into the flash of red. Who turned out to be another disgruntled shopper.

"Oi, watch it!"

The Doctor froze, terrified to look and yet unable to keep first his head and then the rest of his body from turning. He was met with the most terribly beautiful sight imaginable: an irate Donna Noble.

"Oh, I, uh," he stammered, for once absolutely speechless.

"Oh, I, uh," she mocked, rolling her eyes at him. "You knowing knocked me over! Do you even think before you go running about?"

"Er, no?" Oh dear, why had he interrupted her? Her eyes narrowed even further, and one hand was removed from her hip to poke him in the chest. He felt it keenly as he'd felt all her slaps.

"Well you better learn! This is a mall, not a playground, dumbo, and I'm not gonna be here for you to land on next time—"

"Donna, sweetheart, what are you yelling at the poor man for?"

He'd never been so frightened at the sound of someone's voice. But try as he might to convince himself he was hearing things, Wilfred Mott still appeared from an aisle and shuffled over between him and his granddaughter. "There's no need for all this fuss, is there?"

Donna looked somewhat abashed, glancing sown before saying, "Sorry. You alright?"

What? What on Earth was she apologizing to him for? "Yes, always! Er, I mean, of course," he hastily corrected at her raised eyebrow. "It- it was my fault, really, and—" not able to stop himself, he took her hands, doing his best to make her see how sincere he was. When might he get the chance again? "I am so, _so_ sorry, Donna."

She stepped back as soon as he released her, giving a nervous laugh and eyeing him warily. "You just bumped into me, you don't have to—"

"Donna, come have a look at this," Sylvia Noble's voice called, presumably from the aisle Wilf had come from, and he couldn't decide if he'd ever been more grateful or more furious at an interruption in his life.

Donna at least looked incredibly relieved. "Coming!" She made to leave, but stopped and looked back up at him, even attempting a smile. "Listen, just- look after yourself, alright?"

She was gone before he could get his throat unstuck, but he called after her, "I will! I promise, Donna!" Donna. Donna Noble. After all this time…

He turned away from where she'd gone, but found his way blocked by a sheepish looking Wilf. "Sorry about all that, young man," the aged human began, "I know how miserable these trips are for us blokes, without a complete stranger biting your head off."

"She's not—" he started, but snapped his mouth shut. She was what, a stranger? Oh, but she was. Just as Wilf was now a stranger. And he could play this off, slip away quietly and get out of here, forget his feelings until he was alone. The shock was still keeping them at bay.

But Wilf was still talking, still being his amiable self just looking to make amends for his granddaughter, even if he didn't have to. "Donna's just a bit high-spirited is all. It had nothing to do with you." Of course it didn't. He wasn't special, not to Donna Noble. Just another face in the crowd, as he had to be.

"It's fine, I'm not upset," he hastened to assure, wanting desperately to get away.

Wilfred Mott grinned wryly. "Right, there's just something in your eye, eh?"

He blinked, only then recognizing the wetness to it. The Doctor scrubbed at his watery eyes in a panic, as he agreed, "Yes, yes, just something- I had better go wash it out."

"Well alright," the old soldier accepted his excuse, but held out his hand. A final formality before he could escape. "I hope we haven't caused you too much trouble, uh, did you mention your name?"

A perfectly innocent question yet his mouth went dry. He was certain he'd played the John Smith card before. What could he use?

"Doctor!" A familiar Scottish woman's voice broke through and he tensed just as Wilf did.

"Doctor?" Rory's voice followed up, and he realized that the two must be looking for him. And now he was faced with two choices, equally undesirable. He could allow them to continue shouting his name for everyone—for Donna—to hear, or he could let them know he was here, thereby revealing himself to Wilf. Damned either way. But Donna came first.

Slowly, the Doctor turned and spotted the Ponds walking down an aisle and waved to get their attention. Before the two could start over, however, he held up a finger to indicate that they wait for him. Amy looked bewildered, but Rory just shrugged and directed her over to a display to look at while they waited. As much as he felt he could use the support, he needed to have this conversation alone.

He lowered his arm slowly and forced himself to turn back around. The other man was gaping at him, eyes wide as though he'd just been given the gift of sight for the first time.

"Hello, Wilf."

"Oh- oh my word, it's you," the man breathed. "It's you!"

He merely nodded, feeling very afraid. What exactly was going through this human's head—this human he cared for and respected so very much. What did he think of him?

Wilf meanwhile was looking him up and down. "You really did change. I wasn't quite sure what you meant when you were going on about it—but you change!" He gave a short laugh in amazement, and a thin smile tugged at his lips in response.

"Yes, I did. It's been a while, Wilf. How's everything?"

"We're doing alright, Doctor. Doctor…never thought I'd be able to say that again, but here you are," he was positively beaming, but sobered slightly as he added, "Never thought I'd see you, let alone find you talking to Donna."

"I- I wasn't—"

"But she didn't recognize you!" The old man gasped, the wheels in his head turning with a dangerous thought, and he tensed once again in alarm. "That means that it's safe, right?"

"What?" He asked, voice suddenly hoarse.

"Look, I saw you talking to her and nothing bad happened. You could do it again! Maybe you have changed, Doctor, but it's the outside. I know you still care about her, about Donna." As confidently as he said it, there was still a worry in the other man's eyes.

"Of course," the words tumbled from his lips before he could recall them, because Wilfred did not need the encouragement.

"Well then that's it, right? You could introduce yourself as John something, start all over again—"

"No. Please, Wilf," he begged, shaking his head to stem off the temptation. A fresh start with Donna Noble. It could be wonderful, but it would all be a lie. And she deserved better than lies.

"It could work," the old soldier was still reasoning, "You must miss her. But she can't remember you with you looking different. You don't have to stay away anymore. Eh? Doctor?" He was looking at him hopefully, but the Doctor shook his head one last time.

"I can't."

Wilfred's face fell. "Why not?"

"I _can't_," he stressed. Perhaps he could, but he wouldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to put on a mask and play pretend. He couldn't open those wounds again, when they'd only just healed into scars.

"But she'd make you happy again, just like the old times. Just go and introduce yourself, she's right over there, it'd be easy." It'd be one of the hardest things he could ever do. "Please, Doctor."

But he took a step back, hating himself bitterly for the way Wilf reached a hand out as if to stop him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Doctor!"

"I'm sorry!" He staggered back, but was finally unable to take the sad, disappointed look on the other man's face and so he turned and fled. He ran and ran like the coward he was until he burst out into the open air. His strength seemingly drained, he leaned against the side of the building, eyes shut and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

A light hand fell on his shoulder and his eyes snapped open to see red. "Ah!"

"Ah!" Amy shrieked and Rory gave a start beside her.

"Wh—" he stared at them both, trying to process that it was _them_ he was seeing, and not her. And it frightened him how desperately he'd wanted it to be her.

"You could have gotten us before you ran out of there," Amy was scolding him, but the words hardly registered. "Who were you talking to anyway, Doctor? Doctor?" She repeated, frowning in concern.

"Are you ok?" Rory followed up with his own question.

Ponds, more than he had a right to ask for. And yet it still hurt so much.

"Just take me home," he replied woodenly, too weak to put up a façade. "Please."

OoO

She only saw him rush past because she happened to glance up to check, but the old man calling "Doctor!" in desperation after him would have been enough. But he was already out into the mall proper. Amy turned to Rory with alarm; what had happened?

Before the two could start after the Time Lord, however, they heard a wheezing behind them as the elderly man their friend had been conversing with hobbled over to them. "Wait, wait please!"

"Um, can we help you?" Her husband asked uncertainly, clearly impatient as she was to follow the Doctor.

"Yes. You're his friends, aren't you? The Doctor's. You know him."

"Yeah, why?" She inquired, suspicious. After all, what could possibly make the alien run so far and so fast?

"Then please, answer me this: is he happy?" He looked as though everything hinged on the answer.

Amy opened her mouth, but then froze, snapping it shut again. Was he? Was that twelve-hundred year-old man she knew who had loved and lost more than he ever let on happy? Could he ever be? Was everything—the smiles, the jokes, the laughs, hugs, kisses—was it all an act just for them?

No. She was sure, none of that was fake.

"We do everything we can, and he's as happy as he can be," she finally answered confidently.

"Oh good," he panted, only now catching his breath. "I'd hoped he might've found somebody." The old man offered them a wan smile, and she found herself returning it. But quick as it was there, it was gone. "I fear I've just ruined it all again. I never meant to, understand, but—go to him. Don't waste any more time on a silly old man like me. He needs you, now, just like he needed her then. Help him."

She didn't need any more encouragement, and raced out of the mall with Rory right behind her. Once outside, she turned her head this way and that frantically, not sure if he would have gone to the car or not. She was relieved to locate him quite quickly, leaning against the concrete structure with eyes unseeing and a face drained of color. Approaching softly was perhaps not the best way to do it, for when she laid her hand on his shoulder, he jolted into awareness violently with a shout of terror. "Ah!"

"Ah!" She couldn't keep from shrieking in response, even though she knew it was him. Rory even jumped.

"Wh—" his eyes darted back and forth between them as if unable to reconcile the image presented before him with what it meant in his brain, and he seemed incapable of even finishing that attempt to speak.

She decided to try acting natural, hoping that would snap him out of his frightened state. "You could have gotten us before you ran out of there. Who were you talking to anyway, Doctor?" The strange, old man with his worried eyes had never given a name. "Doctor?" She prompted when he continued to stare, and she noticed he was even trembling.

"Are you ok?" Rory asked more directly, and at last all the shaking and harsh gasps of breath stopped. But when he looked at them, they didn't feel much better; his face was completely blank.

"Just take me home. Please." It would have been begging if he'd not been void of emotion, and sharing another concerned glance before leading the expressionless Time Lord back to the car.

Home turned out to be the TARDIS, for when they returned, the Doctor locked himself inside. She was able to accept that for the night. Come morning, when they'd cleared the breakfast dishes away and he still had not emerged, she strode out onto the back lawn determinedly.

"Amy, are you sure this is a good idea?" Rory questioned just as she reached the door.

"We're here to help him, Rory, not let him hide in his box," she countered, delivering three sharp knocks to the door. "Doctor?" No response. When she tried the door, it was still locked. "Come on, girl, please," she muttered to the wood, and smiled with some relief at the familiar click of the lock opening.

The Ponds entered to find an empty console room, at first. It was only when Rory had started for the stairs to the corridor that Amy looked down through the glass and found him in his swing, his jacket shed on the floor and shirtsleeves rolled up, the goggles on his head but pushed back onto his forehead, making his bangs stick up so that she could see his red-rimmed eyes even more clearly. Had he been sitting there all night?

"Doctor," she said softly, climbing down the stairs to stand before him, and Rory followed after. Slowly, she knelt in front of the swing, and took his hands which were limply holding a real screwdriver. The tool clattered to the floor and he gave a jerk, his eyes connecting with hers.

"You know, it's very nice that the TARDIS built this second level," he mumbled, and she blinked, not expecting this random topic. "I used to have to pull up the grating—the floor was made of it—every time I wanted to fix something. Terribly cramped space. But this is nice, I should make use of it more often."

"Doctor, we really should talk, if you're up to it, about—" Rory tried to advise, but the Time Lord interrupted him.

"There's a lot of maintenance I've been falling behind on. The helmic regulator keeps acting up. And I've been having to change the bulb much more often lately, there's got to be something wrong."

"Doctor, it can wait," she gripped his hands harder, but when he tugged them away she added anxiously, "Please, talk to us!"

"What's there to talk about?" He replied in a voice that sounded calm, but teetered on the verge of hysteria, talking faster and faster "Besides, there's so much to be done! People to visit, things to see, maintenance. You know, I could fix that chameleon circuit if I just tried hotbinding the fragment links and superseding the binary—"

But the Doctor choked off on a sob, a sob that turned into an anguished cry, and she only just managed to throw her arms around him before he was weeping on her shoulder, his tears punctuated by agonized moans that he was barely able to stop from becoming wails. And she did her best not to break and cry for him through it all, until he slumped in exhaustion against her.

She pulled back to see his tear-streaked face, streams of the salty water leaking out even in sleep. "Oh, Doctor," she murmured, gently wiping at them. She then removed the goggles and smoothed down his hair. Rory came forward then and helped to lift the other man from the chair, and then picked him up proper.

She scrubbed at her own eyes as they ascended the stairs, coming to a silent agreement to head back into the house. Amy held each door open as Rory first carried the Doctor inside and up to his room, where he was laid on his bed, and they untied his shoes, placing them on the floor.

He seemed at least more at ease now, lying there, but she could not erase the memory of his cries, and she put one hand to her mouth and looked away. Rory wrapped his arms around her and she leaned gratefully into his touch.

"What do we do, Rory? We don't even know what's wrong."

"There's got to be something. We've made him comfortable, at least. And maybe we don't know…but somebody's got to. We might need to get some advice."

She nodded after a moment, realizing it was the only choice they had. Even if she knew how much he hated people to see him vulnerable, this was scaring her enough to take that chance.

So she pulled the covers up and over there friend, kissed him on the forehead, turned off the light, and shut the door. Amy followed Rory back downstairs to make some phone calls, even if all she really wanted to do was sit up there with that broken Raggedy Man, and drive all his grief away.

**Ok, so surprise! This is a two-parter! Next chapter you'll see how this gets resolved. How do you think I handled the return-sort-of of Donna? And oh Wilf, how I love him. Thanks for being patient and for all your wonderful suggestions so far, thanks for reading and please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Ok, let me just apologize for the cliffhanger and the long wait. I never intended to let this update go for so long, but unfortunately my laptop died with half of this chapter on it, and this is the earliest I could access it. So thank you so much for your patience and enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Amy held her breath as she pushed the call button, listening to it ring once, twice. Her eyes darted up to meet Rory's equally nervous expression, but before either of them could speak—whether it be words of encouragement or cowardice—someone picked up.

"Hello?"

She repressed the urge to sigh at the unfamiliar male voice. "Um, hi. Is Sarah Jane Smith in?"

"Yeah, just a minute. Mum!"

She waited as patiently as she could. They'd decided to try the investigative journalist first, as Amy had been the first of the two to gather enough courage to make a call. She didn't know Martha, and she was wary of calling Jack.

It felt like they'd failed, her and Rory, and this was only reminding her of the Captain's warning. Picking up the pieces…had they not even tried? The Doctor had always been her Raggedy Man, just a silly name to describe his clothes, but more and more, Amy was realizing just how true a name it was. How patched and frayed and old and broken he was.

Whatever that old man had said or done, however unintentionally, had punched through the veneer and—despite all they'd been through together—left them completely lost as to how to get through to him. Hopefully someone they'd met this summer would know what was wrong and what to do about it. And Sarah Jane Smith seemed the most understanding, to her mind.

"Hello? This is Sarah Jane Smith," the woman had taken the phone from her son. Now it was up to her—but where to begin?

"Sarah Jane, hi, it's Amy Pond—"

"Oh, Amy! So good to hear from you. How is everything?"

"Er, not well, actually. That's why I'm calling." She winced, waiting for the accusations.

"What's happened?" The other woman asked in a calmer tone than she anticipated, giving her enough strength to continue.

"Well, we don't exactly know. We went shopping in London and the Doctor ran into this old man he knew. Rory and I didn't hear what they said, but then he ran out and by the time we caught up to him it was like he'd gone completely numb. When we got him home, he locked himself in the TARDIS. He wouldn't talk about it, and he started babbling about TARDIS maintenance until he started crying and he cried himself to sleep and now we don't know what to do," she said in one big gasp, the words tumbling out faster and faster as she blinked back tears of her own. Rory took her hand that wasn't holding the phone, and the reminder of his presence allowed her to take a deep breath.

On the other end of the line, Sarah Jane seemed to be trying to process everything. "Ok, um, first of all do not panic. He's hundreds of years old; sometimes it just gets to be too much. The worst thing you can do is let him realize how much this is upsetting you—he'll clam right back up."

Amy nodded before realizing how pointless that gesture was, and hurriedly added, "Got that." She then repeated the brunette's instructions to her husband.

"So it's like a test? I mean, he's trusting us with this, sort of."

"Maybe," she guessed, feeling a bit better at the idea. At least the Time Lord hadn't snapped at them to leave him alone, at least he hadn't turned away to hide his tears when at last they'd come. No, he'd clung to her like a lifeline. "So what do we do after the not-panicking? How do we help him get better?"

"Well, there are two options," Sarah Jane stated. "One: he'll get better on his own. If you leave him to himself for a time, he'll build all his walls back up and act like it never happened. That's what he'll try to do."

"So what's option two?" Rory immediately demanded, as Amy had upped the volume of her phone. Clearly the nurse, like she, was unwilling to just let this go.

She could almost hear the journalist's approving smile. "Option two is to find out exactly what happened and get him to talk about it."

"How do we do that? We don't even know the old man's name," she stressed.

"I think I have an idea of who it was, but I'm afraid I don't know much about it. You said you'd met Martha before, right?"

"Martha Jones? Yeah, Rory has."

"She'd be the better person to ask, then," Sarah Jane said with finality.

"Alright," she sighed, not really wanting this debacle to blow up to include too many people. But if it was what was best for him, she'd do it. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Let me know how it goes."

She hung up and passed the phone to her husband, who dialed the Smith-Jones house. "Hi, Martha. Er, it's me, Rory Williams." He paused, listening. "Yeah, good to talk to you again, too. Listen, uh, we were out with the Doctor yesterday and he sort of bumped into an old friend. We think. It's put him in a pretty bad way." He stopped once more and then answered whatever inquiry. "Older, white hair, bit of a beard. He was definitely from some part of London." Rory waited again. "Yeah, she's here. Yeah, course."

"What'd she say?" Amy couldn't keep from asking.

Nonplussed, he replied, "She wants me to put her on speaker." He did so and told the woman on the other end, "Ok, we can both hear you."

"Good, that'll make this easier," a woman's voice replied. "I wish this was under better circumstances, but it's good to meet you, Amy."

"You too. So do you know who that man was?" She hurried through the pleasantries.

"I'm afraid so. If I had to bet, I'd say hands down it was Wilfred Mott."

"And who's Wilfred Mott?" Rory queried.

"Do you remember when I met you and the Doctor, and I mentioned a woman named Donna?" The woman returned with a question of her own, and his face scrunched up in concentration.

"Er, I think so."

"He's her grandfather."

"Ok, so who's Donna and how do they know the Doctor?" She asked.

"Same as you and me. Donna travelled with him after I did. They were close, best friends. I'd never seen him happier than when he was around Donna." The words had lost their bitterness some time ago, but Amy still felt an incredible amount of pity for Martha Jones. "Only it wasn't meant to last."

"What happened?" Both Ponds said at the same time.

"Donna absorbed the Doctor's mind—all the knowledge of a Time Lord. And she saved us all, the entire universe. But humans can't handle it, we're not built for that. She would have died, so she had to forget everything."

"Everything?" Rory echoed, his voice hushed with awe and horror.

"Everything about the Doctor. Everything they did or said together, every place they ever went, every person they ever met. And if she ever remembers him, she'll die." The other woman was doing her best to stay under control as she explained, but her voice was wavering with emotion.

"Oh my God," Amy held tight to Rory with one hand, her other placed over her mouth. She remembered vaguely that one morning where she didn't remember the Doctor. Her wedding day, the happiest day of her life—and yet everything had seemed so wrong and she hadn't been able to stop crying. "How does she…?"

"She's fine, mostly, just goes about her daily life. As far as I can tell, anyway, because she can't remember me, either," Martha sighed, sounding incredibly defeated. "You see, to her there's nothing missing. She doesn't remember having another life or a best friend."

"But he does."

"Yes," the other woman did not even try to soften the blow.

"Oh, Doctor," she couldn't stop the cry from escaping her, and she was wiping furiously at her eyes to try and stem the tears. "How is that even fair?" She asked, no matter how childish it was.

"It's not."

Rory had moved away to process this latest tragedy concerning their friend, and stood with his back toward her, facing the window. She heard him sniff a couple times, letting her know his own tears weren't entirely under control.

She suddenly remembered the whole reason they were finding this out at last. "What about Wilfred? His granddaughter—was he angry? But he didn't seem upset at the Doctor."

"He's never been angry. Although I think the Doctor would prefer it if he was," Martha confided.

"I just- can't believe…poor Doctor," she shook her head, and stopped herself at least from crying. She took another deep breath and said, "Ok, I think- I think we can do this. Thank you. I'm sorry that we had to bring this up, but—"

"Not at all. It's good that you two know this," the other woman insisted.

Having collected herself, Amy turned away to address her husband. "You think maybe we should—"

"Wait. What? Oh, no," Rory muttered, peering through the window before abruptly pushing away and running to the patio door. "No, Doctor, wait!"

"What's happening?" Martha Jones cried in alarm, but Amy didn't even stop to hang up before rushing after, her heart hammering away in her chest.

What was he doing?

OoO

He was slow to stir, something in him just wanting to curl up and slide back into the oblivion his eyelids were fighting. If he'd been asleep, why did he still feel so drained? Exhaustion wasn't the Doctor's only problem. Everything just ached, and he couldn't seem to recall how exactly he'd gotten here. The last thing he clearly remembered was—

Running. Running as far and as fast as he could because he couldn't face that, not again.

But if he concentrated very hard, he thought he remembered them, too. The Ponds, there to get him back home, there to try to break him out of his catatonic state, there to let him cry until he couldn't. He could remember her shoulder and arms holding him tightly, and his large, callused hand laid gently on his back. They must have brought him up here, removed his shoes and left him to sleep.

Why? Why were they always so kind to a wretched old man like him?

Well that was enough of that. He already worried them far too much without this on top of everything. No need to trouble them with things and people from his past, even if—Donna.

The Doctor sat with his head bowed for a long time, struggling to reign in those pesky human emotions. He'd seen whole civilizations wiped out in the blink of an eye, why was this so difficult?

The murmur of voices below snapped him out of his despair. The Ponds were up, of course, it was clearly day time. But that other voice, it was also familiar…

Martha!

Amy and Rory had called Martha. But why would they do that unless—she was telling them about Donna, the one thing he did not want to happen. Because sure enough, as soon as he hurriedly laced up his boots and crept to the door, steeping out into the hall, he heard a despairing moan from the kitchen, "Oh, Doctor." Amy crying for him once again.

Why did his misfortune have to follow him around, invading all of time and space and discoloring all the things he'd seen and people he'd met. They shouldn't have to bear his burdens, they didn't need to shoulder the weight of his sadness as well as their own. But the longer he stayed…the heavier it would become.

He'd been fooling himself this whole time, thinking it could work. Sure, it was a nice reprieve for him, but every day that he lived with the Ponds was another day he stole from their normal lives. And he couldn't do that anymore.

It hardly mattered if he left his things in this room, the TARDIS always gave him whatever he needed. All that was left was just to steal away quietly to his ship, like so many times before.

The Doctor crept down the stairs, mindful of the creaky ones that he now had memorized, and slipped out the back. He refused to look behind him, for he knew if he allowed himself that one moment of weakness like he had every time until now, he'd go running right back to them, to his Ponds.

Of course, if he had checked, he might have seen he hadn't quite gone unnoticed. As it was, he jumped in alarm as the back door banged open again. "No, Doctor, wait!"

His traitorous body turned around to see Rory running right at him and Amy flying out the back door after them both, each with looks of outright panic. But he couldn't let that stop him, he had to do what was best for them even if they didn't see it. So he spun back and— "Oof!"

Rory had caught up and quite literally tackled him to the ground. Quick as he'd knocked him down, though, the other man was helping him back up, his grip tight. But the Doctor shoved away with a near growl, only to find Amy Pond standing in between him and his TARDIS, feet planted and arms crossed.

"Amy," he gasped, not completely recovered from having the wind knocked out of him.

She glowered and said, "Don't even think about it, Doctor. And don't even think about making excuses or saying you have to go do something, we know you better than that."

And confound her, the redhead knew he wouldn't lay a hand on her, would never force her to move. "Please, Pond, don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"It doesn't need to be at all if you let us help you," Rory remarked to his left. "Listen, we know about Donna, Martha told us about her losing her memory—"

"Oh, did she Rory?" He sneered, injecting as much bitterness as he could into it, wanting to drive them away. "Well did she happen to mention that _I_ was the one who wiped Donna's memory, or did she leave that bit out?" They were gaping at him in newfound horror, and he forced himself to meet their eyes. "Yes, I did it. I destroyed her. I was her supposed best friend, but I did the one thing she begged me not to."

He couldn't keep it up anymore and hung his head, waiting for the accusations, waiting for them to simply move aside so he could go. What he didn't expect was two pairs of arms encircling him and the familiar feel and smell of Ponds surrounding him.

"No, she didn't tell us," Rory answered, "but we're glad you did."

"How do you do it, Doctor?" Amy murmured. "How do you just keep it all inside, never let us know all these things?"

"Because it shouldn't be like this," he replied, even as his own arms wound around them and found a grip. "You shouldn't have to know, not this much. You humans, you never understand. I _ruined_ her. I could do it to you, so easily. Too easily. And you never understand."

The Ponds were silent a moment and then together they sighed and stepped back, at last giving in. Or so he thought. But when he tried to step forward once again, two hands on his chest halted him. He looked up to find them staring him down, faces fixed in steely determination.

"Sure, being around you isn't always the safest, and bad things happen," Rory began, "but it's not you that destroys people or ruins them. Why did you wipe Donna's memory?"

"Because she would have died!" The words flew from his mouth, but they had the opposite effect he had intended; Amy offered a small smile.

"That doesn't sound much like destroying to me. It sounds like you chose to do the right thing, no matter how much it hurt. Just like you always do. And that's the only thing we have to understand, Doctor. That you try, even when it's an impossible choice. And even when you lose."

"We know that, and so does everybody else. Martha, Jack," Rory reminded. "I'm sure Donna was smart enough to realize it."

"Donna was brilliant," he murmured.

"So please don't run away, Doctor," the Scottish woman pleaded at last. "Cause we've made a choice, too, to be your friends, to be your family." His breath hitched and his hearts began to thud very loudly in his ears. "Please don't leave your family, Doctor—"

He pulled her into his arms, both unable to see her so distraught and unable to keep a distance. This wonderful woman who he'd watched grow up from his Amelia Pond—selfish as it was, how could he ever think of leaving her? Or Rory? Blindly, with his free arm he reached out, and the nurse took hold to still the flailing limb, wrapping his own strong arms round the two of them.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor muttered into one of their shoulders over and over again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. The running's just all I know, and—but I can't leave you. My Ponds." He kissed both their foreheads before burrowing back into the comfort and reassurance of their embrace. He felt almost lightheaded and only dimly realized his knees had buckled and they were now sitting on the ground before the TARDIS. It was a while before he could take a deep breath and look them both in the eye. "Thank you for stopping me. For being here."

"No need to thank us, we want to be here for you," Amy chided, combing his bangs back from his face. "It's what Wilfred wanted to."

"What?" He breathed in shock.

"He got to us before we followed you out of the mall," Rory informed him, "asked if you were happy. And he said we should find you, because you needed us like you needed Donna before."

"Oh, Wilf," he sighed, feeling his hearts both ache and swell with admiration for that old soldier. "I did need Donna, so very much. She was brilliant," he repeated, allowing himself this for once, this one moment to look back and recollect in someone else's company. "Smart, brave, funny, capable, bossy, and very loud. Shouting at the world because she felt like nobody listened. And for one tiny second, the most important woman in the universe. My best mate."

"You ought to talk about these things more often," Amy suggested softly, "instead of letting them build up until you can't ignore them."

He smiled wryly, "Yes, but I've done that for nearly twelve-hundred years and I'm rather set in my ways. And anyway, it's not very fun to reflect on all the things I can't fix."

"I wish we could do more," Rory said, "help somehow."

"There's nothing to be done," he assured the other man. "Donna was before your time, before mine, technically speaking. But I still can't double back on my own time stream. And it's useless thinking about 'what ifs', I know. I suppose, if I could have one wish, it would be that I could talk to her, just once more. That's what Wilf wanted from me, at any rate."

"Then what _is_ stopping you?" Rory asked. "Maybe if we knew that, we could figure something out."

"Rory, how can I? Knowing what I did—I can barely stand to think of her, let alone look at her. I want- no, I'd need to talk to her before all that, before I tainted her. Maybe even do something good for her for once. But even that would have its risks." He sat staring at his hands sitting there useless in his lap.

"So go back, then," Amy recommended. "Just far enough that she might not think of it if she sees a funny man saving the universe every once in a while. Unless," she seemed uncertain, and he had to be so grateful that they were trying even though they barely knew anything about it. "that wouldn't be the same. God knows I'm not the same as I was when I was seven."

He smiled softly and tapped her on the nose. "You'd be surprised, Amelia. And no, that wouldn't be a problem. Donna is always Donna, you can't really change that." He chuckled as an old memory came to him, one of those precious few times they'd sat together on a blanket next to her Granddad and he'd tell stories while the Doctor had pointed out the best places to point the telescope. "Why, Wilfred even mentioned that one time when she was six and Sylvia said—"

"Doctor, what is it?" Amy sounded rather worried, for he'd broken off mid-sentence, his mouth dropped and eyes wide.

"Of course…" he breathed, and in one move jumped up from the ground, extending a hand to each of the Ponds to pull them up as well. "Amy, Rory, I really do have to go do something. But come with me, wait in the TARDIS, I promise I will not leave you. But she needs me one more time." Just like he'd needed her.

A bit wary, but mostly curious, the two stepped into the box, and he hurried to the console, typing in the coordinates for Strathclyde.

OoO

Mummy had said no holiday this year. Well, if she didn't want to go on holiday, that was her choice, but no concern of Donna Noble's!

So she'd stuffed some clothes and her favorite toys in a bag, just like Mummy and Daddy did when they packed for their trip. It was easy enough to get some money for the bus fare; Gramps always left his wallet, his keys, anything really, lie about on the counters and such.

Head held high, Donna boarded the bus and dragged her bag over to a seat. But once she'd settled in and the bus started with a shuddering rumble, pulling away from her house and her street and all the other streets she knew, suddenly she wasn't sure about this. She'd done everything just like she'd seen her parents do, and she was on her way to a holiday. But then she remembered she'd forgotten a hairbrush and toothpaste, and that she really should have taken more money because she wasn't allowed to use the stove yet. She didn't even know where to find the stove once she got to wherever she was going. And the other people in the seats around her were all strangers, and bigger and scarier than her.

It was her sheer determination, her little stubborn streak that Daddy liked to say she got from her Mummy, to prove she could go somewhere on her own that kept Donna on the bus so long. But now it was getting dark and she still hadn't seen anyone or anything that looked familiar, and she was missing her house and her bed and her Mummy and Daddy and Granddad.

So she scurried down the steps off the bus and shuffled to the nearest bench with her bag, glancing about in the dimming light and trying not to show how afraid she was. Because she was still somewhere far away and alone and no one here looked nice.

"Hello there."

She jumped and looked up sharply. A man stood before her; he looked younger than Daddy, but he _felt_ older and he was dress like Granddad and his friends when they wanted to look nice. He had a smiling face, yet sad eyes. She couldn't quite make sense of him.

As she continued to stare, his smile faltered a moment until he seemed to decide something and crouched down to her level. "Are you alright?"

Donna recognized that look; pity. It was so _grown-up_, and she hadn't asked him to bother her anyway. She was six years old, and she didn't need some strange man treating her like she was a baby! So she crossed her arms and turned her face away ever-so-slightly, just so she could still see him. "Yes. I'm on holiday. Please go away." She'd remembered her manners, and she hoped her Daddy would be proud of her, if he were here. But he wasn't.

"You're on holiday all alone?" She hesitated, but realized he'd know if she lied, and lying was wrong anyway, so she nodded once. "Well that's a bit rubbish, isn't it?"

"Oi!" She did her best Mummy-glare and smacked him on the arm, even though her parents had told her to stop hitting the other kids. For some reason, this just made him smile, and she felt even angrier. "It's not my fault, anyway—Mummy said we couldn't go this year."

"Well, I'm sure she had a good reason. Mummy's always do, you know," he informed her sagely, and after a moment she sighed and nodded. "But even if she hadn't, why would you want to go on holiday alone? I've gone to loads of places by myself, and you know what?"

"What?"

"I always find myself wishing I was home. Or somewhere like it."

She thought about her hairbrush and toothpaste and bed and family at home. "I wish I was home, too. Where am I?"

"Strathclyde," he answered. "It's in Scotland. Congratulations, you've made it to your first foreign land."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Daddy says that Scotland is the same as home, they just sound funny. So does the map."

The man winced and chuckled a little. "Yes, of course, it does now. Silly me."

She studied him a little. "You're weird," she proclaimed at last, and he laughed again.

"I suppose I am. I also have very sore legs right now, mind if I take a seat?" She nodded again so he stood from his bent position and settled next to her on the bench.

"Granddad says his legs hurt sometimes, too, cause he fought in the war. And Mummy tells him to stop going up the hill every night, but he won't cause he likes watching the stars."

"They're a good thing to watch," he comments, before adding, "You know, your parents and grandfather sound like very nice people. They care about each other a lot? And you?"

"Uh-huh," she nods, quite confident in that.

"Then what'll they do when they find you've gone away without telling anyone?"

Donna looked at him in shock. She hadn't even thought of that! They might be very worried, and maybe even sad. She hadn't wanted to make them sad. "They'll be very upset. What do I do?"

The man stood, offering his hand, and said, "Come with me." He stopped briefly to pick up her bag, and lead her back to the buses. Soon enough she was back to sitting in a seat as the trees and houses and roads passed by, only this time she had someone right next to her holding her hand, and she didn't notice the other people or any of the scary things as much.

She didn't notice the growing darkness outside either, until she gave a rather huge yawn. Donna's eyes slid shut for a moment, but blinked back open when she was suddenly engulfed in warmth. The man had removed the jacket he wore, the kind with the sort of scratchy feel to it, and placed it around her. She glanced up at him to find him looking back down at him. Defiantly she asked, "What, no pillow?"

"Nope. Not even my pockets are that big."

She found his jokes and sayings weird, but couldn't stop herself smiling for some reason, and finally resolved to lean against him. Her eyes fell closed again.

Donna was moving, but not her legs. Still, she felt a breeze hitting her cheeks and stirring her hair, and she was shifting a bit in an even rocking motion. The scratchy material still rested against her cheek and she was curled up and being moved, carried. A steady _thump-thump-thump-thump_ that made her feel safe lulled her back to sleep.

"Donna!"

"Sweetheart!"

Her parents' and Granddad's voices made her jolt awake. Red and blue flashing lights lit her street and let her see them running to her. She squirmed a bit when she realized she couldn't meet them, and then she was being lowered down, and the warmth and comforting feel and smell was gone. She stumbled forward a few steps, before turning back to see the man pulling on his jacket and straitening his funny tie.

"Thank you!" She called, the words sounding strange; she didn't often say them.

"You're welcome, Donna."

She blinked, startled to discover she still had almost no idea who this man was. "What's your—"

But she was swept up in Daddy's arms and gave a shriek of laughter. "Oh, my Donna, my little girl!"

"Where were you?" Mummy demanded, shouting yet planting kisses all over her face.

"Strathclyde, that's in Scotland," she pronounced, quite proud she remembered.

"Well yes it is!" Gramps laughed. "How'd you know that, sweetheart?"

"He told me."

"Who's 'he'?" Her mother immediately asked.

"The man that brought me back here," she replied, rolling her eyes a little since it was so obvious. "He's right over—" But when she twisted around to point, all she saw were police cars and neighbors surrounding them, and not the kind, strange man.

"Donna, who was it?" Her father prompted.

But Donna just looked up at the sky and locked her eyes on the first star she saw, just like her Granddad had taught her. _I wish that the nice, funny man gets to go back home, now he's alone again._

OoO

Rory watched his wife pace around and around the control panel. Every few circuits she would turn to the door, sigh, and begin again. "Amy," he tried at last.

"He's been gone for hours, Rory!" The redhead burst out. "I know we said we'd wait, but I think we should have gone with him. Who knows what sort of trouble he's found or distraction or—"

She was interrupted by the door being pushed in and the Time Lord in question entering. "Doctor!" They both said in surprise.

"Sorry I was so long getting back, Ponds," he apologized, stepping up to the platform. There was a wetness to his eyes, but he did not hide his face, and he was smiling. "Let's go home."

The alien piloted the TARDIS more calmly than usual, and Rory couldn't help feeling nervous as their friend ushered them out the door first, certain he was going to shut the door and go back to wallowing in his depression alone. But the Doctor surprised both him and Amy by following them out of the box and into the house.

"I think I might turn in now, I'm a bit tired, to be perfectly honest," he excused himself, heading for the stairs.

Rory exchanged a look with his wife. "Doctor?"

The other man stopped on the first stair, looking back. "Yes, Rory?"

"Are you ok?"

"Well I'm—" the Time Lord began but halted, taking in their expressions. His shoulders slumped slightly and he sighed heavily. "No, I'm not ok. But I will be." He stepped down and approached them. "Thank you for asking." The Doctor pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads and hugged them both. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," they echoed.

"And if you need to talk anytime, you can come to us. It doesn't matter when," Amy added.

"Ok," he nodded, and went up to his room, shutting the door softly.

His wife took hold of his hand and said, "You know, for once, I don't think he's lying."

Rory felt a small smile spread across his face. "I don't think he is either."

And together the Ponds retired to their own bed.

**So yeah, hopefully it had more of a fluffy tone than an angsty one by the end. I know the Doctor wasn't actually present in the scene where Wilf talks about the trip Donna took when she was six, but I'm taking some liberties; plus, it sounds like the kind of story Wilfred would tell to anyone who would listen. I made this chapter extra long to try and make up for the unforgivably long wait, so conversely I hope that didn't make it boring or too much to take in. At any rate, let me know what you thought. Thanks so much for reading and please review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Ok, so I'm going on vacation soon, so I'm going to update this story since you guys had to wait so long for the last chapter. This one was mostly inspired by a suggestion made by a reviewer called Jazzy, I hope you and everyone else enjoys it!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Eighteen**

Amy was laying out the breakfast dishes, so when the doorbell rang it was Rory who went to the door. "Oh, Angela. Good morning," he greeted his neighbor, a bit nonplussed. As his shifts were often irregular, most of what he knew about the blonde woman came from his wife, and they weren't altogether positive.

But the woman smiled warmly. "Good morning, Rory. I was wondering if you and Amy had a few minutes, or if I should come back later."

"Well," he began, not entirely sure if Amy ever had time for their neighbor. "Now would probably be best." Especially since it appeared the Doctor was still asleep. The woman smiled wider and stepped in, heading down the hallway to the kitchen. "Er, won't you come in?" He posed a bit late, sighing and shutting the front door.

He reached the kitchen just as Amy was greeting their guest. "Angela! How, uh, what are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Amy," the other woman replied, seating herself at the table. Rory tried his best to ignore that she was in the Doctor's chair. "I'd like to speak to you and your husband about something, if you don't mind."

"No, course not," Amy responded after a moment. "Er, can I get you something? Water, tea—"

"A coffee would be nice, if it's no trouble."

He exchanged a look with his wife, who hesitated before plastering a smile on her face. "Sure, just a moment." He saw the smile slip off the redhead's face as soon as she turned around. He felt like doing the same; the smell of coffee was rather overpowering to a Time Lord's nose, they'd recently figured out, and had resolved to stop drinking it at home. But in fairness to Angela, she couldn't know.

"So, um," Rory started as he took his own seat. "What exactly is this about? I mean, is there something we can help you with, or…?" He let it trail, hoping she would finally clue them in.

"Well, I did mention this to your wife some days ago, but I thought I'd just settle the matter myself. It's about John."

"John?" He asked blankly before Amy approached with the coffee and nudged him. He looked at her inquisitively and she sighed before jerking her head quickly in the direction of their upstairs. "Oh! Right, what about him?"

"Well he's been here an awfully long time and we haven't really had much chance to properly introduce ourselves. The neighborhood, I mean."

Rory and Amy exchanged a look. "Oh," his wife stated. "Well, uh, what did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing really. Patricia and I were talking to some of the other ladies and we thought it'd be nice just to have a little get-together. You know, a bit of a social for the street."

"Er…" Neither of them could really think of what to say. If they refused, Angela would want to know why. But they both were very certain that this was a very bad idea. After all, the Doctor at a party was hard enough to handle at the best of times. But the Doctor at a party being held for his sort-of undercover self?

They didn't get the chance to give their opinion, however, as the alien chose that moment to come practically hurtling down the stairs. "Ponds, you've—oh." The Doctor thankfully did not appear any differently than usual, and there was nothing that could possibly alarm their guest aside from pure manic energy. As it was, the woman raised an eyebrow as the Time Lord gathered himself, becoming the more reserved human John Smith. "Angela, what a pleasant surprise, good morning. I hadn't realized we were entertaining today."

Rory shrugged his shoulders just slightly, letting the other man know this hadn't been their idea. "Angela was wondering if we'd be up for a party. Just some of the neighbors, I guess, want to get to know you." He was having trouble gauging the Doctor's reaction; for one thing, the man kept wrinkling his nose every time he inhaled due to the coffee, and for the other, Rory wasn't sure if what he was seeing was his friend's response or the human they'd constructed for Angela's benefit.

John Smith smiled. "Well, that sounds quite nice. There's no need, though, really I'm not much of—"

The blonde cut across him smoothly, "We'd be delighted if you three could make it. I'm so glad I thought of this, it's just what we all need." She stood up. "Well, I'd best finish the preparations. Thank you so much, and you for the coffee, Amy." And with another sickly sweet smile, Angela Langley showed herself out.

"She barely even sipped at it," Amy grumbled as she dumped the contents into the sink, moving instead to the teapot.

"Yes, and it sounds as if she was going to have this little social with or without our permission," the Doctor pointed out, tugging on his braces as he added, "I was only being polite when I said—"

"We know, Doctor," Rory assured him. "But, it might not be an awful idea. I mean, I could do with a bit of a party myself." Short of travelling, this was just the distraction they needed from the more emotionally charged parts of this week.

"Why can't we just have a party for Brian?" The alien argued petulantly, and Rory felt slightly touched that he had remembered the upcoming occasion at all.

"Well, I could invite him," he offered, hoping that might make him more amendable to the idea. A grumpy Doctor at a party was practically begging for trouble.

"Either way, we have to grin and bear it," Amy said with finality. "I just know I'm going to be roped into some stupid conversation about gardens or something. Anyway—"

The phone ringing cut her off, and so she sighed and picked it up. "Hello? Oh, Martha, sorry about yesterday."

"Martha?" The Doctor nearly gasped, looking almost afraid.

"She probably just wants to know if everything's ok," Rory tried to calm his friend, but then his mobile began buzzing. "Hang on. Hello?"

"Rory, good to hear your voice."

"Captain Jack Harkness?" He greeted in more of a questioning tone, and the Time Lord actually jumped. "Uh, how did you get my number?"

"Oh, got it off your file."

"My file?"

"You have one. Anyway, got a call from Martha Jones yesterday—lovely woman—saying that things weren't well at your house. Care to explain?"

"Oh, well that was just- I mean he's fine now, so you don't have to worry."

"Everything's ok, we got it sorted," he heard Amy saying to Martha.

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," the Captain replied.

"Yeah. Well, er, our street's having a bit of a get-together," he started

"Our neighbor's throwing this little party-thing," Amy said into the phone.

"So why don't you stop by?" They both suggested at the same time.

"_What_?" The Doctor yelped, looking at them with wide eyes.

"Alright," Jack agreed, and he could practically see the immortal man's grin. "Always up for a party. Just send me the details and I'll be there."

"Ok, um, great," Rory said, a bit uncomfortable as the Time Lord was currently fixing him with that wounded-puppy look. "I've got to go, so I'll send those to you in a bit."

As he hung up, Amy was saying to Martha, "Alright, I'll see you and Mickey soon!"

A bit reluctantly he turned back to face the Doctor. "Sorry?" He apologized weakly.

The alien had a rather stern frown on his face, but sighed, stating lightly, "No, no, Rory, you did what was best. After all, the only thing worse than a party sort-of being held in my honor is _Jack Harkness_ at a party being held in my honor! This is terrible, your neighbors will be appalled—I've told you he's an awful flirt!"

"Oh lighten up, will you?" Amy rolled her eyes, guiding him to his chair and placing down tea and breakfast. "We've been over this; getting back together with old friends is not bad. Besides, Martha and Mickey are coming, too—they going to get a babysitter—so the three of you should be able to handle him, yeah?"

The Doctor barked a short laugh. "Hardly! Our presence will encourage him."

Rory blinked. "But Martha and Mickey are married."

"Yes, but does that stop him? Please, he wasn't just being friendly when he requested you call him Jack. That's how he works, all politeness and charm—" He practically sounded disgusted.

Amy snorted. "Yeah, cause that's what you're not supposed to do, apparently. Not what _you_ do anyway, Doctor, what was the first thing you ever said to River?"

His wife was curios, but also focusing on her own plate, so Rory was the only one who saw it. Their friend's eyes went wide and he froze for just a second. But then he smoothed it over with a smile and shrugged. "Hard to say. Met her when she was a baby, remember? Anyway!" He continued before either of them could argue the point, "we've got things to do. A party? Let's find out those details so we can let the others know." He pushed back from the table and stood, putting his dishes in the sink and exiting the room. "And call Sarah Jane!" His voice called back to them. "It's not a party without my Sarah Jane Smith."

OoO

"Oh, it's good to see you again," Sarah Jane said with a warm smile as the Doctor opened the door. They hugged and she told him, "I came a little early because I'm not staying too late."

"That's fine, really," he replied, rather relieved the journalist had been the first of his former companions to show. He'd been getting increasingly nervous about this whole neighborhood party-thing. After all, he didn't want to ruin things for Amy and Rory. This was their home, so no silliness, no crazy dancing, and generally no being the Doctor. "Have you met Rory yet? Of course you haven't, he and his father are in the kitchen."

The two Williams men looked up as they entered. "Hello, I'm Sarah Jane Smith, pleased to meet you both," she greeted.

"Oh great, I'm Rory, this is my dad, Brian," the nurse returned, then added, "Amy'll be down in a minute, then we can head over."

The party was being held at the Langley's, with some tables and chairs set out on the front lawn as well. Some lights had been set up as the sun was slowly setting, and people were already gathering.

Their little group of five was greeted warmly by both Angela and Patricia. "Oh, here he is, this is John, he's staying with the Williams's."

"Well since John was in the area for once, I thought I'd pop in," Sarah Jane was explaining to a group of women.

"John, this is my husband, Simon," Angela dragged the broad-shouldered man over with a proud smile. He had a very strong grip.

He met Colin and Joe and Meghan and Lily and more names than he cared to really remember. "So tell us more about what you do for a living, John."

"Ah, well—"

"Hey, mister," a familiar voice greeted behind him, and he was having trouble recalling a time he was happier to hear Martha's voice.

"Martha!" He pulled her into a hug, then released her and embraced her husband. "And Mickey! Goodness, it's been forever, eh Mickey?"

The other man gave a surprised laugh, but patted him on the back before stepping back. "Sure has, Boss. How've you been?"

"Oh, mostly the same, you know me," he dismissed, remembering where he was and turning back to explain, "This is Mickey Smith and his wife Dr. Martha Jones. They're friends of mine, from London."

There were various murmurs of "Pleased to meet you" from the group he was currently associating with.

One woman, he believed it was Meghan, asked, "Do you work for John, Mickey?"

"Nah, just sort of a name I have for him," Mickey replied.

"So you're a doctor, Martha?"

And the married pair slipped quite seamlessly into the conversation, leaving him at a bit of a loss. He saw Brian conversing with Sarah Jane and had to smile. Here, at least, was a tangible example for the father of how things could end mostly for the best. Of course, that train of thought had him sighing and glancing about feeling lost again.

"These socials sure are tough for singles, huh Doc?" A warm, rather familiar arm snaked around his shoulders, trapping him at the Captain's side.

"Jack!"

"Oh, John, just who I—who's your friend?" Patricia was passing by and of course chose this moment to notice him.

"Er, this is Jack—"

"Captain Jack Harkness, ma'am," the immortal man extended his hand to shake the woman's, but did not let go of him. "John just calls me Jack—which you're welcome to, as well. We go way back, you see."

"Oh, yes. Well I—" the woman started with another wide, toothy smile, but someone inside the house called her name. "Well, I'll just leave you two to catch up, then!" She excused herself smoothly with a giggle.

As soon as she was gone, the Doctor extricated himself from the other man's grasp. "Oh, cut it out, will you?"

"What? It's just a little fun. Come on, you're glad I'm here, admit it."

"Why on Earth would I be glad?"

"Because you look about as uncomfortable as I've ever seen you, and none of these people get that. So just stick with me, alright?" Jack offered him an open, genuine smile and the Doctor sighed.

"Well, alright."

Somehow he found himself soon standing amongst a large group of people, who were all jabbering on and laughing quite a bit. What about, he hardly had a clue. But then he was being pulled into another hug.

"I have to be heading home now, K-9 likes a walk early in the morning," Sarah Jane murmured in his ear.

"Oh, well, thanks for coming."

"It was my pleasure," she assured, and quickly disappeared in the crowds.

He sighed for what seemed the umpteenth time that evening, and turned back to find Jack, but couldn't locate him in the sea of faces. The Captain had likely been distracted by one of the guests. The Doctor caught sight of a head of brown hair and darted after it, only for the person to turn around.

"Oh, Colin—it is Colin, isn't it?" He smiled a bit nervously at the other man. "Sorry, was just looking for a friend."

Colin smiled back and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sure they're getting along just fine—"

"That's what I'm worried about," he muttered under his breath, but the human continued on.

"So why not relax?"

"I'm fine," he excused, but Colin's friend Joe laughed quite boisterously.

"Could've fooled me. You're wound up pretty tight, mate. Loosen up, have a beer." And the man shoved a bottle of the stuff in his face.

"Oh, I, uh, really—" He began to stutter, knowing that spitting up liquor at Amy and Rory's neighborhood party was a sure way to get them looked down upon. But as his eyes darted back and forth looking for an escape or excuse, he noticed—nearly everyone at this get-together had some alcoholic beverage in their grasp.

All the neighbors, Colin, Joe, and their friends, Angela was passing by with a tray of drinks, he caught sight of Amy for a split second as she smiled at him with a glass of champagne or something in her hand, and distantly he heard Jack's American-accented voice say, "Why thank you, I think I'll have another."

"Well…perhaps a little?" He squeaked, still faced with Joe's huge, beer-breath grin. He plucked the bottle up between his thumb and forefinger with no small amount of trepidation. Well, the Doctor attempted to reason, since alcohol was a depressant, it could potentially allow his high-functioning mind to relax throughout the rest of this uncomfortable party. And his metabolism would get it out of his system quick enough, at least he was pretty sure. Then again…

"You sort of have to drink it," Colin pointed out with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, and he realized he'd been scrutinizing the thing for a good minute or so. So he scratched at his cheek, took a deep breath, and took a sip, doing his best not to cough and splutter as the liquid burned down his throat. It was worse than the fires of regeneration!

Joe and the others practically guffawed in laugher as one man pounded him on the back. "Come on, mate, you got to be better than that. Give it another go!" So the Doctor closed his eyes and tried to convince himself it was only water as he took another swig.

OoO

Jack was having a rather nice time at this party, cozying up to some of the neighbors of the Doctor's newest friends, or family as the alien had insisted. He certainly did seem particularly attached to these two; he couldn't imagine the Time Lord doing something like this for anyone else.

Speaking of his long-time friend, he realized belatedly that he'd lost track of him somewhere between Chloe and Gina. Funny that, since he'd been planning to introduce Chloe to 'John' as a bit of a joke. Still, he felt it was safe to assume the Doctor was with—except there was Brian Williams coming right at him.

"Captain Harkness, wasn't it?" The older looking man inquired, and he nodded.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm going home now, but I wanted to say goodbye to the Doctor. I saw him with you last."

"Oh, well, he might be with your son now," he suggested, using his height to scan over the heads of people for the large-nosed man.

"No, Rory had to take a call about switching shifts with someone at the hospital this week. And Amy is currently surrounded by a group of all women, I checked," the man added before he could try.

"Huh, well," he chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. "He can't have gone far. Maybe he retreated to the TARDIS for a break. Come on," he led the way around the many tables and chairs set out, sticking close to the walls of the house. It was because of this that he heard a couple of low groans from around the side of it. More than a bit concerned, he ducked around the side. "Doctor?"

The Time Lord was leaning heavily on the wall, a hand to his head, and a bit curled in on himself. But when he came into view, his friend seemed to brighten considerably. "Jack! Hello!" He pushed off from the wall, slightly wobbly, and attempted to step forward and shake his hand, but missed and pitched forward. Jack and Brian steadied him. "And Brian, good old Brian Pond."

"I'm not—" the not-Pond began, but the alien plowed on.

"Happy Birthday, Brian!" And the Doctor planted a big kiss right on the other man's lips. Jack's jaw dropped and he was sure Brian's expression was an exact mirror of his own. "You know, you know, you know—funny thing about birthdays is," their friend held up a finger as if making a grand point, but then another popped up so he was making the victory sign and he had to force it down with his other hand. "is I don't really have one. People think I know it, but how do you even keep track of that? Eh? You're in the Vortex half the time, and don't forget those years and realities and universes that never existed. You remember that year that never happened, Jack?"

"Er, yes?" Jack was quickly becoming very, very worried, because aside from the lack of a slur, the Doctor sounded incredibly—

"That wasn't a very fun year, for any of us. You and Martha were brilliant, though. But the Master- the Master added on those nine-hundred years like he said, remember? But, hell, it could've been five-hundred or two-thousand for all I know. I just pick numbers! The Ponds think I'm twelve-hundred, you see. It's just an estimate, of course. I think I'd quite like to be a thousand again, next time I meet someone. Yeah…" Abruptly, the alien's head dropped as though the strings had been cut, and he slumped in their arms.

"Doc? Doc, come on, wake up!" Jack pulled his head back up as gently as possible, slapping him lightly in the face.

"Captain, exactly how long did you leave him alone?" Brian demanded in a quietly calm voice that still made him wince.

"I'm not exactly sure. But come on, hold him steady a minute." The older Williams did as requested and Jack readjusted his arms, scooping the Doctor up with one arm under his knees and another around his back, propping the Time Lord's head against his broad shoulder. "Hey Doc? Help me out a little, wake up."

His friend's eyes snapped open suddenly and he looked very dazed. But then a smile spread across his face yet again. "Have I mentioned you're very strong, Jack?"

"Have I mentioned you're very drunk, Doctor?" He returned in the same friendly tone, quite able to smell the alcohol on the other man's breath now.

"Am I? I hadn't noticed," the alien looked genuinely surprised, his eyes almost comically wide. "You must be very smart, too, to notice that before I did. You're fantastic! Amazing, even!"

Jack couldn't stifle his own grin. "Keep comments like that up and I'll be expecting a kiss like Brian got." The older-looking male turned bright red and muttered something about Rory. "_He_ got one, too?" He guessed, feeling quite indignant.

"They're Ponds, Jack, only Ponds get—except Marilyn and that was by accident. And I keep telling River, but she _still_ dresses up as Marilyn Monroe every Halloween!"

"Marilyn Monroe—and who's River?" He felt incredibly lost in this conversation, but at least Brian looked more confused. The Doctor, however, began wriggling about in his hold like a puppy or a small child who wanted to be let down. "No way, Doc, you can barely stand. I'm surprised you can even speak this well."

"The TARDIS is translating!" The Time Lord happily explained.

"But drunk speaking is still English!" He argued.

"And who is 'drunk speaking'?" A familiar voice came from the entrance to the front lawn, and Jack turned to see Martha and Mickey watching them. He did his best not to look too guilty.

"Listen, guys, I found him like this." They both shook their heads and Martha gave one of her well-patented sighs before stepping forward, the female doctor checking the alien's pulse for good measure.

"How much has he had?" Mickey questioned, and Jack shrugged.

"They gave me a bottle of something," their friend supplied.

"_A_ bottle? Boss, you only had one?" The dark-skinned male and he nearly laughed, but Martha frowned at both of them.

"His metabolism is twice as fast, so the effects would hit him twice as fast. Plus, the Doctor doesn't drink; I'm sure neither of you were knocking back bottles your first time."

"It tasted awful, Martha," the Time Lord almost whined, and she patted him gently on the head, shushing him.

"We've got to get him back to Amy and Rory's _without_ everyone noticing," she decided, and they all agreed.

"I'll let Amy and Rory know I'm leaving, that should distract them for a few minutes at least," Brian offered.

"I'll try and get people looking the other way, then," Mickey volunteered.

So the two men set out to do their tasks and Jack quickly carried the Doctor across the street and in through the TARDIS-blue door, which was thankfully unlocked. He led Martha to the living room, which he remembered from his last visit, and gently laid the Doctor down on the couch. Of course the Time Lord promptly rolled right off and he had to pick him up from the floor.

"Ok, up you go," he muttered.

"Doctor, do Amy and Rory have any pretzels, something salty?" Martha asked from the kitchen, and Jack could hear her rummaging around in cabinets.

"I think- or maybe they took those to the party. Why do I need something salty, have I been poisoned?" He made to sit up again, but Jack pushed him back against the pillows. "I feel like I've been poisoned."

"Well, in a manner of speaking," Jack told him, "you sort of have. Now just lie back for a minute, ok?"

The front door opened again and Mickey called to them, "We're actually pretty lucky. I've only ever seen the Doctor pretend to be drunk, and that time he put his tie round his head and sang My Fair Lady."

A smile tugged at the corner of the Doctor's lips as Mickey entered the room. "That was quite good, wasn't it? Only I was a little tipsy; I wasn't joking about the banana daiquiri, Mickey." He suddenly sat up with a serious expression. "You three just have to make sure I don't wake up in jail or bank vault—Amy'll kill me."

"Actually, I'd be pretty amused you managed to land yourself in one of those, but I might still kill you, yeah," a Scottish voice responded, and they all jumped to see the two Williams'—or Ponds—framed in the doorway.

"Amy, Rory, listen, uh—how'd you find out so quick?" Jack finally gave up trying to make this look better.

"One of the kids, Michael, said he saw a bunch of people taking 'John' into our house, and that it looked silly because the man was supposed to carry a lady," Rory summarized, and Jack couldn't help snickering a bit. "So what's wrong with him?" The nurse moved forward, joining Martha.

"He had one too many," Jack explained.

"And by one too many, we mean one," Mickey clarified with a smirk.

"Figures," Amy rolled her eyes. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Pond?"

"You don't like alcohol."

"Correct."

"Then how are you drunk?" The redhead demanded.

"One of them—Joe or Colin or somebody, gave it to me, and all of a sudden it was like a scene from one of those peer pressure videos you humans show your primary schoolers. John Smith's a normal bloke, go to the pub, play football, remember?"

"Doctor, we've talked about this," Rory sighed, getting up and going to the kitchen.

"Sorry, sorry, I just—I'd never want to mess this up for you, see? Normal life, normal house, normal neighbors. All normal-y…stuff. And if a bit of wibbly-wobbly wibbly-wobbly is the price, that's not so bad, eh?"

Amy frowned, seeming both frustrated and endeared by his words. She took a seat by him and said, "If John Smith's a normal bloke, you know the bowtie has to go."

The Doctor's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously for a moment before stopping with a groan. "Oh, there's like seven of you—if you start flirting with yourself again, Pond—"

"Shut up," she growled, a little pink, and Jack really wished he knew _that_ story. "Point is, Raggedy Man, if John Smith wears bowties, he's not a normal bloke. And he doesn't have to be. Not all humans are normal. You think Rory and I are normal? Or Martha, Mickey, and Jack?"

"Course not, you're wonderful." Jack wasn't the only one who couldn't contain his smile.

"Well, John Smith can be wonderful, too. In fact, he is," Amy said decidedly.

Rory came back with a glass of water, and his wife sat the Time Lord up. "Now drink all of this, and then we're sending you straight to bed."

"I just slept last night," the alien complained with a pout.

"Trust me, you'll fall asleep," the nurse assured. Amy helped their friend hold the glass steady as the long-nosed man tipped it back gradually, taking breaks to allow him to breath. Jack was ready to resume his role of transport, but the two beat him to it, slinging one of the Doctor's arms around each of their shoulders, and making their slow, steady way up the stairs. Martha, Mickey, and he all watched as the Ponds tucked the Time Lord into bed, Amy pressing a kiss to his forehead. Rory turned off the lights and they slipped back out into the hall, shutting the door.

"You two really know what you're doing, huh?" Martha remarked with a warm smile, but the married pair shrugged it off.

"He'd know what to do if it was us," was the redhead's reply.

"I just wish I could give him something for that hangover he'll have tomorrow," her husband said, and several of them winced in sympathy.

"Well, we really have to be home, we've stayed late enough as is," Mickey informed them, and so with a round of hugs the Smith-Jones pair departed.

The remaining three were now in the front hall, and Amy wasn't quite meeting his eyes, no doubt remembering their last encounter here. Jack cleared his throat and stated, "Well, I'd have to agree with Martha; you two do a real decent job."

"Er, thanks," Rory responded.

"I still believe what I said before," he continued, more to Amy now. "But, I suppose some things—some people are worth it. And if the Doc feels that way, then who am I to argue?"

Amy smiled softly. "Thanks, Jack."

He gave them each a hug. "Just take care of him, please. You're both one of the rare few he lets do that."

"We know," they told him, and so, feeling much better than the last time he'd left the Doctor and the Ponds.

**Ok, so a final update before I leave for vacation! Yay! I referenced a lot of things, like a mini-episode thing from Red Nose day and Neil Gaiman's backstory on the Doctor and the Corsair, so if you recognize anything, it's not mine. At any rate, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and please review!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Ok, so I'm back after far too long, I know. Thank you all so much for the reviews, definitely one of the best things to come back to after vacation! So, this chapter kind of picks up where the last one left us, was partially inspired by something Arthur Darvill once said on Doctor Who Confidential—if you've seen the clip, you'll know it when you read it—and I hope that it will satisfy the request that many of you have been making. Without further ado, enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Nineteen**

"Ohh," the Doctor groaned, eyes shut, as a dull pounding in his skull made itself more and more known, drawing him from sleep. He didn't remember going to bed, but that seemed to be happening a lot ever since he tried this Normal Life lark and, ok, sitting up really wasn't going to happen right now.

At least it was still dark out, so as not to bother his eyes. Wait, hang on—he squinted and realized that he was wrong—it was simply dark in his room because someone had shut the curtains. Yet he was fairly confident they had been open, at least he thought, but now that he looked back it was incredibly difficult to remember much of anything at all about the previous except a lot of people, some frankly foul tasting substance in his mouth, and someone getting a bit handsy while they carried him.

When he tried to concentrate more, it merely made the pain explode to the forefront of his mind, the pounding becoming a throbbing somewhere behind his eyes, and he gave another rather pitiful noise before burying his head under his pillow. But the Doctor froze when he felt the bed dip and the pillow lifted off of him, a cup being placed to his lips.

"It's from the TARDIS med bay," a voice spoke soft and low, seeming to know that any other tone would only aggravate his headache. He swallowed whatever concoction from his blessed ship, both trying to place the voice and trying not to think. It hurt.

But slowly the pain seemed to ebb away, and he became aware of the normal things again, like that it was 2:33 in the afternoon or the rattle of the washing machine below or the heady perfume of—

The Doctor's eyes snapped open to find River Song observing him with no small amount of amusement. She was dressed in her Stormcage prison clothes, her hair as wild as ever, and was sitting on the side of the bed with her legs tucked underneath. "Hello, Sweetie. Or should I say 'Good morning'?"

"River—"

"Can't say I was expecting this. You've never been here before when I'm here, I assumed you didn't really stay over. But I pop in for a visit and here you are!"

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, obviously better understanding the urgency of the situation than her. "River, when are we? Where's you diary?" He glanced about, not spotting it on the nightstand or the floor. It wasn't as if she had anywhere to hide it on her person, although the places she pulled her gun from always managed to surprise him…

She smirked as though reading his thoughts, or perhaps maybe she'd just followed his eyes, and said, "Must have left it in the med bay. Oops," the jailbird giggled at the no-nonsense frown he shot her and finally answered, "The Sapphire Ravine on Phetina Fifteen. As if I could forget."

"It gets hard to keep track of," he explained patiently as he could. "Ok, Phetina…I've done that one. But then, goodness you're early." He passed a hand through his hair and shut his eyes briefly, missing the look of concern that flitted across her face.

"Does it still hurt? I was sure I'd used enough, but I've never had to—"

"I'm fine," he dismissed, not wanting to worry her. "And you hopefully never will again. I do not drink, River."

"And you pick the one time I'm a day late to do it?" His young wife pouted, like she'd been told she'd missed the county fair.

"I seem to have a knack for picking the wrong time, don't I?" He grinned wryly, recalling all the times she'd told him so, or would tell him so rather. Maybe his headache wasn't completely gone after all.

He rested his head back against the pillow and she leaned over him with a warm smile, one of her corkscrew curls tickling his cheek. "Are we having a bit of a lie-in day, then? No aliens or explosions?"

"Afraid not," he confirmed, doing his best to sound serious, but he doubted it was effective as her smile only grew and she leaned in closer. "Sorry, dear."

"Oh, don't be, honey." She breathed, and he practically inhaled it as her lips melded over his. He was vaguely cognizant of one of his hands tangling as always in her hair while the other landed on her hip as her weight shifted closer and one of her hands splayed across his chest. They were slow, languid kisses, with not much time or effort given to talking, much less breathing, although the archeologist finally managed to remark, "You know, you're really quite fortunate I'm here—" She was forced to stop for a moment as he brought her head back down to show how much he agreed with her. "Otherwise you'd still be lying here holding your head and moaning."

"Bet you liked hearing those," he quipped, unable to resist, and gave a giggle of his own when she smacked his arm. But he wasn't laughing when she attacked his neck with her mouth, perhaps in some twisted way to prove his point. "River," he said, partially in an attempt to stay coherent.

"Yes?"

"What brought you here in the first place?"

"I told you," she sighed and he could practically hear her eye roll, "a visit home."

Right, of course. A visit home, though River didn't exactly live here, but her parents—

"Parents!" The Doctor shot up with a strangled yell and made to scoot as far back against the headboard as possible, but was impeded by the fact that somewhere along the way, River had sat on him.

His wife, for her part, looked bewildered by the way he was suddenly gaping at her in horror and trying to get away from her. "Sorry?"

"River, you- your," he gasped, impulses telling him simultaneously to scream and to keep absolutely silent. "Your parent's house. This is your _parent's_ house."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, I'd realized that, Doctor."

"Amy and Rory—your parents are _right downstairs_," he stressed.

"So?"

"So? _So_? River, what if they- they might- while we're—" He gestured awkwardly between them, but she merely gave him a devilish grin, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"I know. It's exciting, isn't it?"

"Well, yes—no!" He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently forced her back when she tried to return to her previous task. "They could walk in any minute- probably waiting downstairs for you- don't they know you're here?"

"No, I programmed my vortex manipulator for here, then made a trip to the TARDIS and back for your headache," she informed him. "Haven't been anywhere else in the house yet."

"Why would you program your vortex manipulator for my room?" He nearly demanded, seriously considering the idea that she'd planned this.

"Because, it is also _my_ room when I stay here," she answered simply while fixing him with a look, making him instantly feel guilty. "They really should have thought that one through," she continued in a lighter tone, walking her fingers down the front of his shirt. "It's like they're trying to encourage us." Trying to ignore the way his heartbeats both quickened, the Doctor caught her hand.

"River, we _can't_." He took a deep breath, realizing that for once he was the more experienced in their relationship and that he needed to be the mature one. "Your parents have accepted me into their home as a guest, so there is absolutely no way I will engage in- in _activities_," he tried to ignore the blush to his face as she smirked at him, "with their daughter when they're practically right there!"

"You've never objected when we're all on the TARDIS," she pointed out with a frown, and he flushed again, scratching at his cheek. It was her turn to reach up and take his hand, which she guided back to her hip. "Doctor, they may be my parents, but they know I'm married. I'd certainly hope they would respect the decisions that I make as a grown woman." Somehow, he found he'd been eased onto his back once again "And anyway I had to hear all about their sordid details when I was Mels, so it's not like they can pretend I'm all innocent."

He regarded her with some suspicion. "Is this just some sick revenge scheme you're using me for, then?"

She shrugged, leaning into his space dangerously close and making his brain short circuit. "Maybe a little, but you love me for it."

"Kind of do a bit," he murmured against her lips, wondering not for the first time why he ever bothered to fight this woman.

"Doctor, thought maybe you were—oh God."

This time he really did unseat his wife in sheer terror as he threw himself backward, whacked his head against the wall, fell over sideways, and toppled off the bed. He registered dimly River's voice somewhere above him. "Hello, dad."

"Oh God," Rory repeated in the doorway, seemingly frozen. The Doctor certainly felt frozen in a heap on the floor, as though if he were to move it would break the spell of stillness over the Roman. "That just- you- when did you even get here, River?"

"Not too long ago," she replied, reaching down and hauling him back up to sit with her. "I used my room in case you had people over, but when I got here I found a Time Lord in my bed. Thought I must have jumped straight to Christmas," she said with glee, grinning as both men turned red and avoided eye contact.

"Rory," he ventured, marveling at his own daring. "I didn't intend- I mean I tried to—sorry," he finally finished, knowing that making excuses would probably only worsen things.

"Right," the nurse said, still not meeting his eyes. "That's- right. Good to- good to have you home, River."

She might have answered and then the whole thing could have maybe possibly blown over, but then they all heard footsteps down the hall. "Is everything alright—River!" Amy stopped next to Rory in the doorway, her expression first of surprise, then delight at the sight of her daughter, then confusion at her husband's uncomfortable stance, then suspicion at his disheveled appearance and current proximity to her daughter—not to mention the bed—and finally a sort of shocked delight at the obvious scandal. "Were they- did you just—"

"Right," Rory said again, nodding to himself in decision. "Family meeting—_now_!"

OoO

Amy did her best not to snicker as her husband did an about-face and marched down the stairs. She glanced back to see River roll her eyes and stand, pulling the Doctor up with her, who simply looked bewildered. "What does that mean?" The Time Lord asked, sounding wary.

"Just what he said, family meeting," Amy explained before grinning wickedly. "You've really done it now, Raggedy Man."

"I didn't mean- not like I plan for this sort of- wasn't even thinking straight yet," he muttered, but followed the two of them out into the hall.

"Don't think I've seen him this flustered since the Byzantium. Have you done the Byzantium, River?" She questioned lightly, more in an effort to alleviate the awkwardness of the situation. After all, this was keenly reminding her of her attempted tryst with the alien in her own bedroom.

"No, but I've heard about some of it," her daughter answered. "And on that note, mother, I'd say I win because I got the bowtie off."

"What—hey!" The Doctor had stopped at the top of the stairs and was grabbing at his shirt collar, which was unadorned. "River." He held out his hand and the curly-haired woman sighed before pulling the strip of cloth out of her cleavage and dropping it into his palm.

"You let me keep the others," she pointed out, and Amy giggled at this while her friend retied his accessory with a red face and shaking hands.

"I hadn't realized it was a competition, but I'm proud of you anyway," Amy commented with an amused shrug, and finally they entered the sitting room. Rory was already seated on one of the couches so she took the spot next to him. The Doctor went to the one opposite, seemed to think better of it, and then sat on the sofa. He gave a yelp, however, when River dropped into his lap, and leaned as far away as possible.

"River," the Centurion warned, and their daughter sighed once again before rising and going to the other couch, which she sprawled across. Defiant as ever when she was young; Amy hadn't been given any confirmation, of course, but she could tell by the blonde woman's attitude that she was somewhere closer to Mels than Professor Song. "Ok," her husband started, "I know this is…uncomfortable, and we usually just try not to talk about it. But we need some ground rules or- or something."

"Right," Amy said, nodding in agreement and taking over, knowing that that had been difficult enough for the Roman to say. "Obviously, whatever you two get up to when we're not around is none of our business, but we'd prefer that it not take place in our house."

"Ok," the Doctor agreed almost before she'd finished her sentence. He was on the edge of his seat, eyes darting about, and if she'd ever been worried he was going to bolt, now was it. River frowned at him, likely annoyed that the Oncoming Storm refused to fight against this perceived injustice.

"It's not like you two had the same consideration for him on your wedding night," their daughter pointed out knowingly, with a slight petulant air, and the room's three other occupants all blushed to varying degrees.

"It was their wedding night, River, not like they knew," the Time Lord interceded, trying to keep the peace. "And I really should have thought about it—I just _really_ try not to think about it. Point is, I'm sure it's never happened again." When she and Rory both nodded quickly, he looked incredibly relieved. "So we should be just as accommodating."

"Good," Rory stated. "Great. So, um, you two can't be alone together upstairs. I think that's reasonable—"

"Reasonable?" River repeated, incredulous, and sat up. "I'm old enough to have a boy in my room, dad! Is it not enough he's not even supposed to be in my jail cell? Not to mention half the time I'm on the TARDIS, he's shocked I even have a room!"

It was hard meeting her gaze, so Amy glanced about at the other two. Rory was no longer the stern Roman, it was as if he had deflated. The Doctor looked ashamed, but stood and reached out to her. "River—"

But she slapped his hand away. "Oh, don't touch me! I don't even know why I bother with you. I thought maybe I'd made a mistake, or maybe you'd planned something for here, but obviously you just let it slip your mind because it wasn't important!"

"What wasn't important?" The Time Lord sat next to her and tried to take her hand, but she wrenched it out of his grasp. "River, when are we?"

"Our one-year anniversary! A year of marriage—a year of prison—and the one night you don't show." Amy thought she might have gone as pale as the alien, and felt her heart going out to her daughter. "I waited for hours, then came here because I figured I'd at least have the choice between being alone or with people who're supposed to care—" The blonde woman gave a shaky breath before diving into her husband's open arms and burying her face in his chest in a desperate bid to not let them see her tears.

The Doctor's eyes had gone wide with recognition. "I was a day late," he breathed. "I'd set the coordinates and everything, but the TARDIS took me to the next day. Oh River, I'm sorry," he wrapped his arms around her and then asked, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She sniffed once and then turned her face so she could answer. "You were in pain, I wasn't just going to march in and start telling you you're an idiot—"

"No, that's exactly what you have to do," he countered, looking down at her, and she in turn met his gaze questioningly. "You have to tell me when I'm wrong, or when I'm being an idiot, River, even when I don't want to hear it. You're the only one who can."

Amy exchanged a long glance with Rory, who cleared his throat before saying, "You know, I didn't really understand what was happening at the time, but even if I had I still would have said it." At their blank looks, he elaborated. "I consent and gladly give."

River pulled away from the Time Lord in order to hug the nurse. "Thank you, dad," she murmured in his ear, and Rory smiled just a little. Amy turned to the alien who was regarding the pair warmly.

"It's still your anniversary, isn't it? For River, anyway?" When he looked at her bemusedly, she rolled her eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for? TARDIS is outside, take her somewhere special—you never seem to run out of places in the universe." She'd crossed over and ushered him from his chair, and when Rory nodded River jumped up with a grin, grabbing the Doctor's hand and practically dragging him out to the patio.

"I'll have her back before—" but the door slammed and shortly after the familiar wheeze of the engines started up. Amy shook her head with a smile. It didn't matter what time; she trusted those two to get each other home safe.

"So, Mr. Pond, what should we do now?" She turned to face her husband with a smirk, only to find Rory wiping at his eyes. "Oh, Rory," she sighed, sitting down next to him on the couch and wrapping her arms around him. "I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah. River's right, of course. I mean, we can't treat her like some unruly teenager just cause she's our daughter," he muttered, and she nodded. "And it'll be nice to have some peace and quiet for once." She nodded again and he sighed. "It's not like we have to wait up for them or anything."

So naturally they were watching—but not really paying attention to—the television when the TARDIS returned that night. They did, however, manage to stay seated until they heard someone struggling with the patio door, at which point they mutually agreed they were only going to it because whoever that someone was obviously needed help.

It was the Doctor, trying to turn the knob while also cradling a sleeping River in his arms. He mouthed a thank you as they let him in, and he entered limping, which Amy immediately noticed.

"What happened?" She demanded in as hushed a tone as she could manage, and he grimaced.

"Just a sprained ankle, Pond, should be healed up in a couple days at most. River wrapped it, I'll be fine," he assured, but still looked relieved when Rory took the sleeping woman from his arms. As the Roman carried her upstairs, Amy grabbed the Time Lord by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen.

"Yeah, well let's put some ice on it."

She'd just put a bag of the cold substance on his ankle when Rory returned. "I put her in her room," he informed them, before taking a seat at the table. "It's, er, well it's your room, too, you know," he added, actually meeting the alien's eyes. "I mean, Amy and I have the Bedroom Rule, so I guess you two can have- I was being sort of strict earlier and—"

The Doctor cut him off by placing a hand on his shoulder, his smile warm if also tired and old. "Thank you, Rory. I confess, this whole _marriage_ thing is a bit, well, unfamiliar to me at least. But I'm very fortunate to have River, and we're both very fortunate to have you two."

"You bet you are," Amy remarked, getting up to start the kettle, and he chuckled. "Hey, Raggedy Man, happy anniversary."

"Well, from my point of view it's still about seven months, twelve days, and—" he stopped at the look she was giving him and shrugged. "Ah, what the hell. Thank you, Amelia."

So the three of them settled in to wait for the kettle to boil, knowing that it didn't really matter what day it was.

**Ok, so sorry if that was filled with sap, that's just how they seemed to want to be written this chapter. At any rate, I hope you enjoyed! Keep the suggestions coming, I will do my best to write almost anything, thanks for reading, and please review!**


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